


Until Sunrise

by mrtvejpes



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Asexual!Kihyun, Asexuality Spectrum, But This One Is Stronger Than The Rest, Coming of Age, Consent, Demisexuality, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Humor, Healthy Relationships, Horns, Incubus!Hoseok, Kihyun Has Been Visited by Three Incubi Already And Repelled Them All, M/M, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, So Married, Tails, The Long Awaited Seokkubus Fic Is Here, kiho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-13 23:08:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16027904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrtvejpes/pseuds/mrtvejpes
Summary: Kihyun felt a trickle of sweat travel down his spine.“Begone,” he rasped at the creature.“I told you already that this doesn't work on us,” the man mumbled. He didn't sound sleepy – on the contrary, his voice was viscid with something too awake and present. Something like a pout.For fuck's sake.This one was a pouter.





	1. Begone, Demon

**Author's Note:**

> A note to the readers: In this AU, incubi cannot touch humans unless they're invited to do so.

There was another incubus in his bedroom when he came home.

Kihyun stared at the creature poised in a second-hand chair, a piece he had bought at a flea market about a month ago. He wondered whether the chair was cursed. His nights used to be pleasantly boring, but one shopping spree and half a semester later, he'd become an expert at expelling incubi.

The one who had materialized before Kihyun today, seated in the cushy seat in the corner of the room, was the fourth so far.

He seemed to glisten in the semi-darkness, soaking up myriads of cold neons from the outside as the city throbbed with lights. Black-haired and pallid, he would probably look equally as sickly even when not bathed in the bluish glow that seeped into his skin. He wore very little.

Actually, all he wore was a pair of leather trousers. And chains of gold.

Lots of chains.

Kihyun critically took in the tautness of the creature's chest and stomach, the sheer breadth of his upper body. He was strong for someone so pretty. Harnessed all over, he had to be uncomfortable, but didn't look it. Quite on the contrary, he lounged in the chair with his thighs leisurely sprawled. They were harnessed, too. Kihyun noticed two horns peeking from under a soft fringe.

He shut the door behind himself.

“No,” said Kihyun.

The incubus sat there owlish, his smile fading.

Soon, it crept back.

“Hello, lover.”

“Begone, demon.”

“You know that this doesn't work on us,” said the demon.

“But it feels good to say it.”

“That's not very hospitable of you,” he sniffed.

“Good. I intend to be as inhospitable as humanly possible.”

Turning away, Kihyun laid his backpack on the ground and took off his fur-lined parka. The little studio he rented wasn't very warm at nights, so he kept his woollen socks on. After he gave the creature another once-over, Kihyun threw a clean pair of socks at him. A fuzzy sweater followed.

“We don't really get cold,” the man said, peeling the offensive sweater off one of his horns.

“I'm cold just looking at you.”

“Really?” Bending down, the demon pulled the socks on. He wiggled his toes. “Is this the empathy thing people talk about?”

“No. It's the common sense thing people talk about.”

“Never heard of that.”

“Look, I know how it goes by now. I know you have to keep trying. But I've had a long day, so I'd appreciate it if you could, like, fuck off.”

“If you know how it goes, you also know that I can't do that. I can't leave until sunrise.”

Reclining back, the incubus appeared broader. He didn't take much space; he just became its axis. Kihyun had to admit the incubi coming to his home had yet to be harsh to look at, even the smallish stocky one with the Armenian-shaped nose. Still, he'd rather get some sleep than spend another night trying to repel infernal beings from his bed.

This particular incubus was at least polite enough – or dramatic enough – to pose in the chair. Kihyun really hated it when someone rumpled his clean sheets. He'd been changing them every other day for the past month. By now, his neighbours must have assumed he had problems controlling his bladder or other organs since he came to the common laundry room so often.

“So...” Kihyun heard behind himself as he turned his back to the now socked and sweatered creature to fix himself something quick to eat. “You know, the men I usually visit would normally be kneeling by now.”

“I have bad joints.”

“I could kneel,” the man said expectantly.

“If you're about to kneel, hand me a pan. It's in the left cabinet.”

“What's a pan?”

Kihyun inhaled through his nose.

“Forget it.”

“No, I'm curious.”

“And I'm busy.”

The sooner he got to eat, the sooner he could go to sleep. He'd been up for twenty hours.

But as soon as he began preparing black bean noodles, he heard heavy footsteps. Soft – but heavy. It was different than the skulk and slither of the previous two incubi; and it was definitely different than the stomping of the first one who had scared the shit out of Kihyun when he had first appeared here in clothes so sheer they were barely there. No, _this_ one moved with a sort of weight to his gait. Almost like a person.

The creature hovered right behind him. It didn't move.

The hair on the back of Kihyun's neck stood up. He started chopping radish with more force.

It was a good thing that incubi couldn't touch until invited. Kihyun was one jumpy fucker, if he said so himself, and he detested being approached even more than he detested people rumpling his bed sheets.

The problem was, he also detested being cornered, especially when the person cornering him was a massive motherfucker from the depths of hell who was literally breathing down his neck.

Kihyun threw a dirty look over his shoulder.

The creature caught his stare and lit up.

Yeah. In that sweater, he really resembled a person.

Kihyun knew better, though. He'd woken up being straddled by blood-thirsty demons before, their shadowed faces only a breath away from his. Though uninvited, they would still try. They would still do anything to get to him. Especially when they would try to play friends first.

He never touched the demon behind him when he uttered:

“Back off.”

“What are you doing?” asked the man, his eyebrows quirking up in a soft slope that almost met in the middle.

“Jjajangmyeon.”

“Can I have some?”

“I only have enough for one.”

“Oh.” Edging closer to peek at Kihyun's hands, he said: “It's okay. You better eat it all. You'll need the energy.”

“So you can sap it?” retorted Kihyun, snippy.

The harshness escaped the man.

“Yes,” he beamed.

Wry, Kihyun turned back to the pork belly he was slicing into small cubes. He would have to eat meatless meals for the next week.

So this was his life now. He was on an involuntary diet, lived in a one-room flat where he stumbled all over himself, and fought off man-thirsty monsters in his free time.

But he got a pretty nice vintage chair.

He grimaced.

He really hoped he would come through the night without another sleep paralysis. The man behind him may be easy to land eyes on, but he was too strong for Kihyun to truly enjoy the sight. He could throttle Kihyun, whether it was real or not – whether it was just another dream or reality. Simply knowing that the man _could_ harm him made Kihyun less than enthusiastic to fall asleep.

Of course, he _did_ fall asleep in the end. Dozing off was easy and quick when someone was as tired as Kihyun, and as used to ignoring the sense of dread that sometimes still gripped him when he stopped mid-step and realized the other person in the room was powerful enough to kill. Yeah, he'd been mindful of the shadow who had followed him everywhere, even to the door to the bathroom when Kihyun had gone to take a short shower; and later, to bed. It wasn't pleasant to be pursued, the demon at his heels hanging around too close and shelling him with a string of soft-spoken questions which Kihyun had chosen not to answer. But he'd grown accustomed to it. He had become jaded enough to push the crawling feeling that would creep up the bottom of his arms aside. He was almost able to sleep soundly nowadays.

So when he woke up moon-eyed, his body petrified from his heart to the tips of his fingers, he got scared. He got so scared that his lungs burned in his unmoving chest. He got even more scared because no eerily pale being loomed above him, waiting to devour him once he dropped his defenses. His gaze flitted around the room, looking for movement; looking for something blacker than black that prowled in the shadows.

Then he saw it. From the corner of his eye, Kihyun spotted a silhouette to his left, lying next to him. It was closer than he'd thought. He couldn't even turn his head to stare straight at it.

He tried to blink. Blinking usually helped when nothing but his eyes remained alive in his otherwise crippled body – that, and moving his fingertips. But today, Kihyun could only blink. He didn't even feel his hands.

His lids fluttered shut and open, shut and open. Kihyun took a sharp intake of breath as grating as salt in his nose, but that was good. That was good, because pain meant that the numbness was going away.

Soon his fingers quivered, and then his forearms, and Kihyun sat up with his teeth clenched.

The creature stirred. It lay curled within arm's reach, the sweater Kihyun could get lost in too tight on that bulky body. His white skin and all that white fluff alike seemed effervescent.

Kihyun felt a trickle of sweat travel down his spine.

“Begone,” he rasped at the creature.

“I told you already that this doesn't work on us,” the man mumbled. He didn't sound sleepy – on the contrary, his voice was viscid with something too awake and present. Something like a pout.

For fuck's sake.

This one was a pouter.

Kihyun was skilled at dealing with pouters, seeing that his best friend was prone to sulking. Did he want to deal with this particular pouter at three in the morning, though? No, Kihyun didn't think so.

“Look, at least go lie somewhere else. You're being creepy as hell,” he told the creature.

“The hell isn't all that creepy, actually.”

“Save that lesson in hell-ology for another man. I don't have time for this. I have to get some sleep and I can't do it with you lurking around.”

“But what am I supposed to do here?” asked the man. He clutched his tail to his chest protectively. God, he had a _tail_. That was new. “I would've been gone by now if you had just let me do it, you know.”

“You're wasting your breath. I've told your pals already.” Kihyun pressed his lips together. Now that he was no longer terrified as he took in the huge but harmlessly huddled body beside him, all he was – was pissy. And sweaty. And done. He fired his following statement with such victory in his tone that, for a second, he actually felt it. “I'm asexual. You can't get to me.”

“Asexual isn't dysfunctional,” the demon piped up.

“What do I have to do to get rid of you all? Chop off my dick?” Kihyun soured. “I swear I'll do it. No one has touched it in twenty-two years, anyway, and no one's gonna touch it for the next sixty, if I live for that long.”

“You'll still have an asshole.”

“I will cement it with Eastern European cuisine.”

“You don't have to fight this. You can just spread your legs a little.” Straightening up, the incubus bore into Kihyun darker, the black of his lashes and irises deepening in that coral-pale face. “I'm gentle with virgins.”

“And I'm not very gentle with dudes who try to fuck me even though I've told them over and over I'm not into it.”

The creature stiffened, his eyes widening. And then, for some reason that was incomprehensible to Kihyun, he whispered, very pleased:

“Do I look like a dude? A human dude?”

“I mean, the tail kind of ruins it.”

“What's wrong with my tail?” he pouted again. The thing wrapped itself around his neck, its pointy end aiming at Kihyun.

He deadpanned.

“It's not the first thing you'd associate with humans, is it.”

“I suppose not,” the man relented. Still, his lips remained plump.

“Listen, it's been nice and all, but I really need you to piss off, dude.” Kihyun hoped the monster might soften up when addressed this way. Being called “dude” obviously delighted him. “I wake up early.”

“But you don't have to,” the incubus retorted. “I studied your schedule. You work in the afternoon and you have classes in the evening. That's why you come home so late.”

“You studied my schedule?”

“Well, of course.” By now, they were both sitting up. “I had to ask around and prepare for you properly. You've wreaked quite the havoc down there, you know. It happens every now and then that someone refuses one of us, but three in a row?”

“Try four, then.”

The man stilled altogether. His eyebrows quirked upwards once more.

“But why?”

“I told you. I'm asexual.” Kihyun wasn't even sure whether he would prefer men if he _was_ attracted to someone physically.

“You're on the list, though. I should be able to borrow your energy.”

Borrow! Right. He'd end up comatose. Not dead, perhaps, but dazed enough to be completely out of it for a couple of days.

“Well, someone made a mistake when they were compiling that bullshit little list,” Kihyun snapped. He'd heard of The List a thousand times already.

“It can't be wrong,” objected the man. “It's never wrong. I've been doing this for three hundred years.”

“Whoa,” said Kihyun without thinking.

The demon blushed. “Right?”

“You don't look three hundred years old.”

“Stop,” the demon blushed a shade darker.

“No, really. You don't look a day over twenty-five.”

“That old?” he bristled up. “I'm only one year older than you in human years! Not even!”

“I guess it's the muscles,” Kihyun offered. “They make you look mature beyond your... human years.”

“Do you hate my muscles, too?” the man pinned him with an offended look, cradling his own bicep the way he had cradled his tail a few minutes ago.

“I don't care either way.”

“Tell me one thing, though,” the man said in a hushed tone.

“Yes?”

“Am I ugly?”

“I don't think so?”

“You don't _think_ so,” the demon clipped.

“I really don't know what to tell you,” Kihyun shrugged.

He disentangled himself from the thickly wrapped blanket and got up. He turned the ceiling light on. It painted the studio in washed-out gold. Moving inside the tiny space, he started fixing himself a cup of coffee. It was useless to try to fall asleep now, he thought grudgily. He never slept well after a paralysis, anyway.

He felt rather than heard the demon walk up behind him.

“So what do you dislike about me?” he asked as he hovered behind Kihyun.

“Honestly? Nothing.”

The incubus gaped.

“So you like what I look like?”

“I just really don't care, man.”

“Man,” said the monster softly.

“What's your name, anyway?” Kihyun looked over his shoulder. When the creature kept gaping, Kihyun sensed the small harsh line that sometimes appeared between his eyebrows fold there. He should stop scowling, or that was what his mother would always say. Doing his best to clear his expression, Kihyun added: “Don't you have one? The others did.”

“It's Hoseok,” he whispered.

“Okay.”

“Lee Hoseok.”

“You demons have family names, too?”

Hoseok plumped up in the face again. The softness in his voice was gone.

“I am no lowly demon. I am an incubus and I come from the noble family of Shins,” he said testily.

“I thought you said your family name was Lee.”

The demon – Hoseok – no longer bore himself in such an almighty manner. He mumbled something.

“What was that?” asked Kihyun.

“I'm half-born,” Hoseok said louder, then he drew back. “But I am still no lowly demon. I'm better at what I do than most of my pure-blood peers. I have three hundred years worth of experience to vouch for that.”

“Cool?” said Kihyun, not knowing what else to say.

“But this could be my downfall,” Hoseok added, almost imperceptibly.

“Sorry about that.”

Kihyun handed Hoseok a cup of coffee.

The man took it, though awkwardly.

“What is this?”

“An infernal liquid that will give you all the energy I can't give you.”

“It's not infernal,” Hoseok protested and sniffed, the pleasantly tangy scent of coffee surprising him. “I would know it.”

“Taste it and you'll see. But wait,” Kihyun hastened –

– and then he shrank back so far that his lower back hit the counter. For someone so smart, he could be a fucking klutz.

He'd almost grabbed the demon's wrist to stop him from drinking the coffee while it was still scorching.

He grew sick. His pulse thumped.

Hadn't he learned his lesson already?

In a rapid sequence of unearthly faces flashing before him, Kihyun recalled the last incubus whose composure had lulled him into believing that they were in the same boat. There had been an unspoken agreement between them, or so Kihyun had thought. Sure, the willowy man had slept in Kihyun's bed, but “slept” was the key word here. Respectfully, he had kept to his side of the not so narrow bunk night after night – until he hadn't.

Kihyun could still see his blazing eyes bore into him, fibery and shifting with iridescent green in the dark like a beetle's exoskeleton. He could sense claws tightening around his throat – even though it had been only an illusion, a sort of spell the incubus had cast on him to frighten him into complaisance.

He looked at Hoseok.

Was it really enough, to dress a demon in man's clothes and expect him to behave like one?

Hoseok stood there innocent enough.

“What? Shouldn't I drink it?” he asked, uncertain.

“Not while it's still scalding,” said Kihyun.

“I told you. We don't really get hot or cold.”

Oh. Kihyun was a fucking klutz, and a forgetful one at that.

“I see. In that case be my guest,” he muttered morosely.

Pausing mid-slurp, Hoseok balked before he lit up.

“With pleasure.”

“Wh – no! Not like that. That wasn't an invitation.”

“It kinda was,” simpered Hoseok.

“You still can't touch me.”

“But I can use your flat however I please.”

“It's a pretty shitty flat, so be my guest,” quipped Kihyun. Then he blanched. “Fuck.”

“I guess you really want me here,” smiled Hoseok as he sipped from the steaming cup. “I can't wait to tell the others. It's my first night here and I can already use your home freely.”

As strange as it was, the man in front of Kihyun seemed to swell with pride – but at the same time, he seemed smaller somehow. _Demure_ , as if being pleased or praised rang stronger with him than being prideful.

Kihyun grimaced.

“You're also the first one to mooch off me like this.”

“Like what?”

Wordlessly, Kihyun pointed to the mug.

The demon went rosy.

“I'm _so_ gonna rub this is Minhyuk's face,” he promised to no one in particular, his cheeks rounder as he didn't even try to hide his smile. “He said I had no chance.”

“I see he's a little shit even in the underworld.”

“He's the biggest of shits,” whispered Hoseok. Then he got shy. “I mean, he's the best, but he's also the worst. You know?”

“I know,” said Kihyun sourly.

“So.”

“Yeah?”

“Why didn't you like him?”

“I told you. I really have no special reason.” This was getting tiring. Kihyun stirred his coffee. It was still too hot to drink. He toyed with the ear of the mug. “I just don't see anyone this way.”

“From what I heard, Minhyuk didn't try to woo you for too long, did he?” Hoseok threw in, watching Kihyun's movements.

“He gave up after a week or so. I guess I'm ugly by dem – by incubi standards,” said Kihyun dryly.

“No. Not even close,” said Hoseok quietly.

Kihyun wasn't about to be bought with flattery.

“What, are you guys into tiny virgins with bad eyesight?” he asked, wry.

“You're not all that tiny. We're about the same height.”

“That just makes you tiny, too.”

“Tiny things are cute.”

“Tell that to my mother next time she nags at me that I'm too skinny.”

“She's not wrong about that, though, you know. You could use a little bit more meat on your bones,” Hoseok pointed out.

“You're not going to say that it should be _your_ meat, are you?”

“That... I didn't think of that,” said Hoseok sadly, regretting the missed opportunity. “I was actually trying to be helpful.”

“Helpful? By telling me what I already know? Thanks.”

“Sheesh. Someone's snippy.”

“I'm snippy because in order to get some meat on these bones, I would first need some meat in my fridge.” And he wasn't exactly a millionaire, was he. He wondered how much Hoseok's harnesses cost.

Hoseok inclined his head to the side. “What's a fridge?”

“Are you telling me you've never heard of pans and fridges? Really? Don't you lazy infernal asses cook for yourselves?”

“No?” said Hoseok, taken aback. “The sinners do it, of course.”

“The sinners,” repeated Kihyun dryly.

“Of course.”

“So, like. Hitler serves you soup.”

Hoseok pulled a face. “No. Gross.”

“So you've never prepared a meal for yourself? And you're three hundred years old?” Kihyun regarded him. “That's embarrassing. Especially since you're half human.”

“Half human,” Hoseok echoed, his hands closing around the cup.

Kihyun frowned.

“That's what you said.”

“I said I was half-born. That's how we call it. But... but half human sounds nicer,” he said silently.

“Whatever.”

“Kihyun?”

The sound of his own name put him on edge. It made him so suspicious that his gaze sliced right through Hoseok, as severe as winter.

“What.”

His tone was as severe as winter, too.

“Tell me honestly.”

“Yeah?”

“Is it the tail?”

“Sorry?”

“Is it the tail?” Hoseok asked again. “If I was more... humanly, would you let me in?”

“No. The others didn't have tails and I didn't feel anything when I looked at them, either.” Except for dread. And later on, irritation. Briefly, Kihyun pondered over something. “But how come you have a tail when you're not even a pure-blood incubus?”

“It grows with age,” Hoseok said proudly.

“So you're... ancient. In non-human years.”

“I'm not ancient!” he prickled up. “I'm experienced.”

“Are you gonna grow something else when you're older?” he asked, actually curious. “Wings? Bigger horns?”

For a second or two, Kihyun got no response.

“I've never had a man tell me my horns were small,” said Hoseok slowly, mortally offended.

“They're pretty small.”

Hoseok clutched his pearls, except he wasn't wearing any.

“Take that back!”

“Wait, why? Is this some kind of... demonic dick thing? Like, do you guys compare horns instead of your junk?” Despite himself, Kihyun snickered. “But yours are so _small_.”

“They are thick, though!”

“I cannot believe this.” Kihyun felt his under-eye dimples appear. “It really is a dick thing.”

“My actual dick is fine, just so you know,” said Hoseok petulantly.

“But your horns are so short that they basically grow back inside your head.”

“Alright, they might be a little bit shorter than average – only a little bit – but that must be because I am half human,” Hoseok defended hotly. “It's not because I'm not strong enough.”

“Yeah, I can see that. Don't sweat it. You look strong enough.”

Out of the blue, Hoseok dummied up. He _swelled_. Even though the studio swam in golden light, it appeared to Kihyun the incubus was once more too pale, too aglow with bluish shades. This time, it wasn't the neons. It wasn't the white sweater. It was Hoseok.

“Do you like that?” he asked at last, shy.

“For fuck's sake.”

“No, wait, don't get angry. Don't turn away.” Hoseok stomped closer. “It's just – look, I never met anyone before you who wouldn't feel what other people normally feel. It's confusing me.”

“You don't know what people normally feel, though. Do you?”

“I _know_ what people feel. I think. I just don't feel it. Or I haven't yet.”

Unsure, Hoseok shifted his weight. He took the last sip of his coffee and spun the cup in his hands until Kihyun took it from him, careful not to touch him. The cup was still warm although it was empty.

“That makes us even,” said Kihyun. “I guess I feel what you feel.”

“But... but you'd be so empty.”

“I dunno. It's alright as long as my stomach is full.” But then something occurred to him. “Wait. So when you're sent out to fuck all these strangers, you're not attracted to them? Sexually or otherwise?”

“I'm mostly just busy sapping their energy.” Hoseok shrugged. “But some are better looking than others, I suppose. That's just how it goes.”

“Can you at least choose who to fuck?”

“Not really.”

Kihyun gawked.

“That's terrible.”

“Why?”

“It's... rape-y.”

“Is it?” Hoseok gaped.

“Well, yeah.”

“How so?”

“First of all, let me tell you that the way _you_ guys act is just as rape-y. You just skulk inside and harass people until they sleep with you.”

“Not until they've consented!” Hoseok said loudly, but there was little force in it. He was hurt again.

“Still. It's pretty borderline, if you ask me. The guy who got sent here right before you gave me nightmares and played me like a fucking fiddle to manipulate me into saying yes. Fear isn't consent, you know.”

Opening his mouth to say something, Hoseok stopped himself short. His shoulders sloped a little.

“I guess.”

“My point is,” Kihyun continued, “this whole incubi thing is creepy and rape-y however you look at it. It goes both ways because, obviously, you can't consent, either.”

“I _can_ consent.”

“But you don't always.”

“I – well. I need that energy. Sex is like eating to me. You eat broccoli even though you don't like it.”

“I eat broccoli because it's delicious.” And cheap.

“Nasty.”

Kihyun raised one eyebrow.

“I'd say you're old enough to eat your veggies.”

“Not broccoli. Yuck.”

“You should try it sometimes. I think I have some in the freezer. Should I take it out?”

“Begone, demon.”

They looked at each other. Hoseok giggled first.

“Too bad, man. That doesn't work on me,” said Kihyun, suppressing a chuckle.

At that exact moment, the street lights went out. Hoseok looked over his shoulder, startled by the watered down dark. He turned back.

“But sunrise works on me,” he said before he disappeared, leaving behind nothing but a heap of socks and a sweater.

 

Kihyun made broccoli soup when he got home the following day.

Naturally, Hoseok already sat perched in the second-hand chair, lounging there shirtless and glistening under his chains of shifting gold. He watched Kihyun undress, wash up, and start preparing dinner. All the while, he didn't say anything besides a small “Hello, lover,” probably pouting at Kihyun's choice of cuisine.

This is fun, thought Kihyun as he rolled up his sleeves and began rinsing the vegetables.

He'd repelled demons with indifference and nagging and aura cleansing before, but never with food. Now, Kihyun knew he may not be the best or the most efficient cook on earth (that was his mother, thank you very much), but he was decent; and he definitely loved cooking enough to keep Hoseok the Half Human from sniffing in his broccoli-infused kitchen forever.

So Hoseok sniffed in the chair, butthurt.

Kihyun felt so festive that he threw a handful of finely sliced mint leaves into his old shaky blender before he puréed the soup. It was a pity that he had no ricotta to garnish it. That stuff was costly.

Being broke had made Kihyun quite inventive. He sprinkled on some roasted pumpkin seeds and nuts. He took the bowl and, careful not to spill it, he sat atop the bed, folding his legs underneath himself. He gloated as he savoured the first spoonful. Simple but flavourful, if he said so himself.

“Is it good?” asked Hoseok, not as cool as he tried to sound.

“It's _delectable_.”

Hoseok's belly churned.

Kihyun pretended not to hear it and reached for his phone to put on some music. When he was alone, he usually listened to coffee shop mixes to mellow down after a demanding day.

“It doesn't smell bad,” piped up Hoseok.

“It smells heavenly. Too bad that you come from hell.”

“But I'm handsome enough to be divine.”

“You know, I've been wondering,” said Kihyun, ignoring the pun because, well, no one was allowed to be cheesy in this cheese-less household except for him.

“About what?” Perking up the tiniest bit, Hoseok straightened up in his seat. He drew his thighs closer together.

“The person who is sending you. Satan or whoever it is.”

“Satan isn't sending us. She's too busy torturing souls who deserve it.”

“Alright, then. The Head Incubus.” He paused, waiting for Hoseok to correct him, but he seemed satisfied with the title. “Does he send you according to some rules?”

“Hm,” Hoseok mused. “I wouldn't say there are any rules, but we get assigned mortals according to our rank. When Hyunwoo thinks the case might be tougher, he sends someone who is higher in hierarchy. Someone skilled.” He got comfortable in the chair, beaming. “Like me.”

“So it doesn't have anything to do with looks?”

“Why? You don't care about looks, anyway. Do you?” Hoseok peered at him curiously.

“I don't. I'm just trying to make some sense of how this whole thing works. I legitimately thought that the decisive factor in sending a specific incubus to a specific human must be how close he is to the victim's type.”

“You're asexual. You don't have a type.”

“True. But other people do. And even I can tell if someone's conventionally attractive.”

As soon as he said it, Kihyun knew what was coming.

“Am I conventionally attractive?” simpered Hoseok, but he seemed to mean the question.

Kihyun shrugged. He let him have it. “Yeah.”

“What about Minhyuk and the rest?”

“I'd say the same about them.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You're all easy on the eyes.”

“Which one of us did you like the best so far?”

_That_ he didn't see coming. He frowned.

He recalled the strong slope of a nose – the low voice – the smallish and stocky body.

“I guess the second one.”

Hoseok deflated. “Changkyun?”

“No. He told me his name was Kkukkung.”

“We call him Kkukkung because he's adorable. He's the youngest,” said Hoseok. Then, quietly, he added: “He's got this charm, right? He's all dark and mysterious. I look nothing like him.”

“He's been the kindest so far. Like, he kept too close and liked to sit on top of me when I was asleep, but he _got_ it. He didn't push me into anything. And he gave up on his own.”

“You let him sit on top of you? – You let him touch you?” Hoseok froze.

“We weren't actually touching.” Instead of explaining, Kihyun patted the covers and fluffed them up a little.

“But...” Hoseok protested. The words died down in his throat. “So Changkyun was allowed to sit on you and I'm not. I see. You didn't even lend me the sweater again,” he said in a loud whisper, his tail thumping on the armrest in a slow, sullen rhythm.

“You left it on the ground yesterday. I don't lend my clothes to people who have no manners.”

“I'm only half a person,” defended Hoseok. “How was I supposed to know what to do? No one has ever put clothes _on_ me. Everyone just takes them off.”

“That's sad.”

“It's nice. I like being wanted.”

“In that case you've come to the wrong place.”

“You don't have to remind me,” soured Hoseok.

“I have to, though, because you're still here.”

“And you're still inhospitable,” he clipped quietly.

Then, not quietly at all, his belly rumbled again.

“Go and take some of that soup,” said Kihyun. “There's enough of it for two.”

“But broccoli is yucky.”

“But I'm a really good cook.” Well, a decent one, at least.

“I know.” Hoseok shifted forward. “The infernal liquid you made for me yesterday was really good.”

“Go eat your veggies and I might fix you a cup later.”

The second he got back to eating, he heard a shuffle of feet – tentative at first. Hoseok's shadow ran over him as the man walked past, passing under the ceiling light.

He came back with the whole stock pot. Its contents were still steaming. Unbothered, Hoseok climbed on the bed and sat cross-legged across from Kihyun. He put the stock pot into his lap.

“You're gonna burn your dick.”

“It's used to warm things. Like, humans.”

Kihyun rolled his eyes.

Then he took a better look at Hoseok.

“Wait –”

Too late. Hoseok started eating straight from the pot.

Kihyun guessed it was no lunch for him tomorrow.

 

On the third night, Hoseok was sprawled on his bed.

Kihyun took off his gloves and scarf. He opened his parka, but kept it on because cold seeped into the studio through the thin walls. The windows rang and wheezed as strong wintry winds pressed into the glass panes. He shivered as he sat on the ground in the lotus position and closed his eyes.

“Namu Amita Bul.”

There was silence. Kihyun cracked one eye open.

Hoseok was still lying on the bed, unimpressed.

Alright, then. The prayer alone didn't work. Rummaging through the pockets of his parka, Kihyun pulled out a string of wooden prayer beads. He kneaded them between his fingers.

“Namu Amita Bul,” he recited. “Namu Amita Bul.”

Hoseok _snickered_.

“Buddhism won't help you,” he said, a tad too pleased for Kihyun's liking.

“Don't talk to me. I'm trying to meditate.”

“Oh, you call this meditating? I thought you were trying to freeze your butt off.”

“That too,” grudged Kihyun. “Now shush. I am paying homage to Him – to Infinite Light.”

“You're gonna pay, but to the doctor who's going to treat your hemorrhoids if you don't get up.”

“Let the power of hemorrhoids repel you.”

Hoseok gave another snicker.

“Feeling funny today?”

“No, I'm feeling religious today. I'll exorcise you before you know it.”

“That's cute.”

“Do you know what's even cuter?”

“You.”

“My cock shrivelled.” Kihyun got up and threw the useless prayer beads god knows where, though he knew he was going to look for them later so he could sell them back. Patting his pockets once more, he found a small jar. He pulled it out. It was, indeed, very cute. Lotus flowers were painted all over the lid, which was rimed with a gilded, granulated line. He waved the jar at Hoseok. “Watch this.”

“What's in it?” the demon perked up, propping himself up on one elbow.

“Camphor powder.”

“Sheesh.” Hoseok smiled. “Do you really believe that this is going to drive me away?”

Kihyun frowned. He opened the lid of the jar as threateningly as he could. He started chanting anew, circling the bed as he readied himself for the final step of the ritual.

All the while, Hoseok simpered at him.

Kihyun stopped in his tracks when he said the last word of the prayer. Menacingly, he pinched a dash of the fine powder between his fingers and threw it at the demon. Hoseok batted his eyelashes at him, his tail thumping softly on the pillow.

Well. That didn't work the way Kihyun had planned.

Unsure what to do, he dumped the whole jar on Hoseok's chest.

“Let the power of Infinite Light repel you!”

Hoseok sneezed.

It sent the powder _everywhere_.

“I will strangle you with my bare hands,” whispered Kihyun, watching the dancing dust settle. Everything from his bed to the floor to Hoseok's nipples lay under a pale layer of ash, smelling of camphor wood.

“It's not my fault, you know.” Sitting up, Hoseok jangled his chains with both hands. More powder fell. “I told you this wouldn't work. Now we both look stupid.”

Feeling himself at home, Hoseok got up and dusted off the rest of the fine film that clung to his skin and clothes – at least as much of it as he managed. Leaving whitish footprints, he went to the bathroom. Kihyun could only stare and seethe.

“At least close the door behind you!”

“I have nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Not even that cringy flower on your ass?”

“It's not cringy! It's my initiation tattoo!”

“What's that?”

“It's a tattoo I received after sapping my first victim ever.”

“Does every incubus have it... there?” Kihyun quirked a sceptical eyebrow.

“No.” Undressed, Hoseok posed in front of the mirror. He clenched a little. “Some have it on their dicks.”

“That sounds painful.”

“We don't feel pain the way mortals do.”

They spoke louder now in order to drown out the sound of water. Hoseok climbed into the cramped shower stall. He barely fit in. His leather pants, powdered over, ended up in a pile on the tiles. His jewels glittered, laid down in the laundry basket.

“The water pressure sucks,” announced Hoseok.

“Go shower home if it's that bad.”

“I can't. I have to stay until sunrise. But I'd be gone in a blink of an eye if you just took one for the team, Kihyunnie.”

Kihyunnie! Not even Jooheon called him Kihyunnie.

Not even his own older _brother_ dared to do that.

“It's Yoo Kihyun for incubi and other devils.”

“But I'm half human.”

“It's _Mr_ Yoo Kihyun for half humans,” he shot back.

“Okay, _master_ ,” singsonged Hoseok.

“I said mister!”

“Yes, master. Understood, master.”

Incredulous, Kihyun went to grab a dustpan and a duster. He had to change the bed sheets before he got to work. The stuff really got everywhere. It was in the cracks of the parquet floor. It was smoothing the leaves of a small plant which Kihyun kept on a column of books that served him as a bedside table. It was scattered all over his own clothes.

He grumbled. That was the last time he believed a vendor who sold amulets and ceremonial objects at a night market, even if the vendor was Yoongi's boyfriend and as such should be presumed as trustworthy.

While he was in the middle of sweeping, crawling on his knees to get the mess from under the bed, a shadow slithered over him. He glanced over his shoulder to see a very naked, very wet Hoseok sit down open-legged on the edge of the bed, all smiles.

“I _just_ changed the sheets,” said Kihyun tersely.

“And I just showered, so it shouldn't matter.”

“It does. I don't want the imprint of your ballsack on my blanket.”

Hoseok shrugged. “It's a nice ballsack.”

“I still don't want it imprinted anywhere.”

“Not even on your face?” he beamed.

“Especially not on my face.”

“Aw.”

“Yup.”

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Have you ever kissed?”

“No.”

“No?” echoed Hoseok, lifting his feet up so Kihyun could keep sweeping. It exposed more than his ballsack. The tail, for one. “Not even once? Not even a little bit?”

“I mean, this girl pecked me once.”

“What girl?”

“Just a girl.”

“Did you like it?”

“I was six. It felt clammy.”

“Six? And after that – nothing?” Hoseok gaped.

“I really don't know what to tell you.” Straightening up, Kihyun carefully put the dustpan down. He got up into a squat and rolled his sleeves down. He successfully ignored the nice ballsack and the dick which, just as Hoseok had claimed, was fine despite his shortish horns. “I never initiated anything because I never felt like it. And I'm not exactly a catch who would lure thousands of girls, so it's no kisses for me.”

“How about thousands of boys?” tried Hoseok as he put his feet back down.

“I don't think it would make a difference,” said Kihyun. He was honest about that.

Hoseok pondered for a bit.

“Let me peck you,” he suggested out of the blue. “We should try and see what it does to you.”

“Do you think I'm an absolute nincompoop? Do you think I will let you peck me so you're allowed to touch me as you please?” Kihyun eyed him coolly. “Don't take me for a fool just because one of my plans backfired. I will exorcise you in the end. I did it to the rest of your pals too.”

“Sheesh, I wasn't even thinking about inviting myself,” said Hoseok.

“I don't trust you, demon.”

“Please, don't call me that.”

“Sorry.”

They stared at each other awkwardly.

Kihyun stood up, craning his neck and working his shoulders and knees. He really had bad joints for someone so young. He took the dustpan and dumped its contents into the waste bin. He went and washed his hands. The bathroom was fogged over, warmer than the rest of the studio. He fished out a clean towel and threw it at Hoseok as he marched past him on his quest to find some clothes – any clothes – he could put on the incubus.

Even though Hoseok had claimed over and over that his folk didn't get hot or cold, it still had to be unpleasant to sit in the middle of a barely heated up room, sopping. His nipples were a little too hard and the sneeze sort of worried Kihyun, because if there was anything worse than hanging out with an incubus when he was supposed to sleep, it was catching a cold from said incubus.

His modest wardrobe yielded very little. He managed to find a pair of sweats and a sweater even baggier than the one he had offered Hoseok on the first night. Of course, it only looked baggy on Kihyun. Hoseok stretched it snug.

“This is comfy,” he said in a quiet tone, pleased.

“Right?” Now that there were no tattoos and buttholes glaring at him, Kihyun ventured back towards Hoseok and past him into the kitchen. He started to make coffee. “I don't get why you strut around in those appalling pants. They must chafe your dick like crazy.”

“Did it look chafed?”

It didn't.

“Don't you get sweaty when you wear leather?” Kihyun asked instead.

“I usually only get sweaty during sex.”

“Lucky. I would never get sweaty.” It would make his college life much less awkward.

There was a brief beat of silence. Over the gurgle of the boiling water, Kihyun didn't hear Hoseok come closer. Come _close_. He turned around to face him. It would have startled him if he wasn't so used to these tricks.

Hoseok looked stronger up close, but also gentler; waiting. The horns peeked from under his fringe so softly that not even their gnarly texture could make them monstrous.

Kihyun realized he wasn't scared to look at them.

He wasn't scared to look at Hoseok's mouth, either, so he did. It could glisten rosy all it wanted. It could part in a speechless invitation all it wanted. Kihyun was empty.

He looked up again. He shrugged.

Waiting one more moment, Hoseok breathed in. He pulled back.

“I was _so_ sure,” he murmured, clasping his hands together.

“Don't beat yourself up,” entreated Kihyun. “It just doesn't work on me.”

Hoseok turned away to sulk as Kihyun poured them each a cup. When he spoke up at last, Kihyun had to reiterate. Hoseok wasn't sulking. He was sad.

“I almost let myself be burned to kiss you first just now,” he said.

Kihyun stirred the coffee and put the mug in Hoseok's hands, keeping some distance between them.

“Does it burn very bad?”

“It's survivable, but it'd rather not go through it ever again.”

“So you've had other victims refuse you?” Kihyun glanced up.

“No, not really – I was just rash this one time. They hadn't fully consented yet and I touched them and – it wasn't pretty. Hyunwoo had to finish the job.”

“I guess you were still a greenhorn then.”

Hoseok bristled up. “Is this about my horns again? As in, they're tiny? Teeny tiny greenhorns? Horns for beginners?”

“No. I like your horns.” Kihyun paused to think. “At least as much as one can like horns.”

Stilling in place, Hoseok tried to glower. He was probably considering whether Kihyun was mocking him.

And then – he sulked.

“You still hate my tail, though.”

Kihyun sighed.

 


	2. No Songs For You

A week into knowing Hoseok, Kihyun woke up with the incubus's weight on top of him.

It wasn't another sleep paralysis, and Kihyun exhaled deeply and almost thankfully when he realized his fingers didn't feel numb as he grazed them over the covers. He could move his limbs.

Lifting his head up a little, he grumbled: “Get off.”

“I don't want to,” whispered Hoseok.

“Go before I get mad.”

“I won't bother you.”

“You're already bothering me.”

“You let Changkyun do this, though,” Hoseok reminded him, somewhat sterner than usual. “He told me you even sang him to sleep once so you could rest without being watched.” He hesitated, twisting the bed sheets with his fingers. “I didn't know you could sing.” He paused for even longer. “I didn't know you were so soft.”

“I'm not singing to you.”

“Why not?”

“My throat is sore. Remember that one time you sneezed at me? I think you gave me some kind of hellish disease.”

“That was, literally, one time,” said Hoseok. It must have made him petty because next thing Kihyun knew, he settled down deeper.

He squished Kihyun's cock.

“Off,” huffed Kihyun, propping himself up. “You're heavy.”

“I'm not _that_ heavy. I can't weight that much more than you.”

“Well, these bullshits you wear?” Kihyun motioned to Hoseok's harnesses. “They dig into me whenever you shift. It hurts.”

“Oh.” Noiselessly, and still boring into him, Hoseok lifted his lower body. He didn't get up. He straddled Kihyun firmer with his thighs as he laid both palms beside his shoulders and leaned down. “Is this better?”

“Kinda. But I still want you gone.”

“Why?”

“I told you. You're heavy.”

“Does it feel bad?”

“It feels heavy,” deadpanned Kihyun.

“Even there?” Hoseok asked quietly. He moved his hips.

“See, I knew it. I knew you were going to make this weird.” He scowled. He would've shimmied from under Hoseok ages ago if he wasn't afraid of accidentally touching him. “You wanna know why I allowed Changkyun to sit on me? He was calm as a cat. He wasn't grinding.”

“I'm not grinding,” lied Hoseok, and then he grew sheepish because they both knew he was lying, and then he mumbled: “I'm just doing my job.”

“Rape-y.”

Stricken, Hoseok stopped rubbing himself on Kihyun. He stopped arguing.

He rolled off.

Kihyun immediately went onto his side so Hoseok wouldn't climb on top of him later in the night. Except now he was lying face to face with the too-silent man, who curled up on his side as well and cradled his tail, which wasn't much better. Two big, solemn eyes blazed at Kihyun in the dark.

He'd yet to meet an incubus besides Hoseok who would be so doe-eyed.

“Don't give me that look,” Kihyun chastised him.

“What look?”

“That hurt look.”

“I'm not hurt.” Hoseok curled up tighter. “But I hurt you.”

“A little bit. It can't be exactly cosy for you either, to wear those chains all the time.”

“I'm used to it.”

“What, do you like being chained?”

Despite himself, Hoseok smiled a little.

“Was that an innuendo?”

“I'm learning,” said Kihyun with fake pride. “So. Do you?”

“I like being pecked.”

“Nice try.”

“I like coffee.” Hoseok went sour again. “But you didn't make me any today.”

“You have hands, you know.”

“But that's not the same. And you stay up with me when we drink coffee together,” he added, tilting his head to sniff the pillow.

“Yes, but then I'm useless during the day.”

“That's because you wake up so early even though you don't have to.”

“I have to. I have to study before I go to work because then I have classes and then it's time to sleep again.”

“You could study at night,” said Hoseok, waiting. For what, Kihyun didn't know.

“With you perched here? Prancing around half-naked like you own the place? Demanding coffee and songs and pecks? I don't think so.”

“I would demand less coffee and fewer pecks if you stayed up with me,” he promised, his voice barely there. “It's just so lonely when you're sleeping.”

“Then go home.”

“I can't. I've told you.”

“You can. You can give up.”

“It would bring me down, though.”

Inhaling sharply, Kihyun sat up. He rubbed at his eyes. It was so cold. He considered wrapping himself in the blanket and walking around like a cocooned caterpillar, but thought better of it. Instead, he threw the blanket over Hoseok. He got out of bed and put on one more pair of socks and his faithful parka. He did it all blindly, padding in the dark before he turned on a small wall light above the sink.

He rummaged through the kitchenette and came back to bed a few minutes later with two cups. He hoped his neighbours weren't getting annoyed at him for boiling water at odd hours. The kettle he owned was an old thing and it roared terribly.

Hoseok had perked up enough so he was sitting up. He was leaning on one arm.

“See?” grouched Kihyun. “Soft.”

“A little bit,” agreed Hoseok as he took the mug with his free hand, still leaning on the other. He had veiny forearms. His biceps were dewy in comparison. Tender-looking. As tender as that face above them which could fool Kihyun from time to time into thinking that Hoseok was more than half human.

“So. How's Changkyun?” asked Kihyun. “You said the two of you talked.”

Hoseok blinked at him.

His shoulders sloped.

“I see. I see.”

“What is it that you see?” he said, exasperated.

“I suppose you want him back,” sniffed Hoseok.

“He was so quiet.” Kihyun let his dreamy gaze wander into the distance.

It prickled the demon up. His tail got pointy and it stabbed at the air once.

“He's married, you know.”

“For real?”

“Yes. To the Head Incubus.”

“Incubi get married?”

“Of course. How do you think we procreate?”

“By fucking,” replied Kihyun blankly.

“Well, that's a part of it,” grudged Hoseok. He watched Kihyun blow on the coffee and did the same.

Tentatively, Kihyun took the first sip. It amused him when Hoseok followed suit again, drinking like a proper little human.

So he tried something else.

“Ah,” he said, savouring the taste.

Hoseok hummed too.

Pushing it, Kihyun whistled.

Hoseok pursed his lips – and then he glared a little when he realized what Kihyun was doing.

“So,” said Kihyun nonchalantly, doing his best not to grin at the man's antics _or_ his scowl, “are you married?”

Hoseok blushed.

“Why?”

“So I can send them my condolences.” He grinned for real when Hoseok puffed up. “Are you then?”

“Not yet.”

“How so?” Suddenly, a worry line dripped down between his eyebrows. “Is it because they call you half-born?”

“I guess.”

“Wait, really?”

Hoseok shrugged.

Kihyun frowned deeper. “Can you marry a human?”

“Are you offering?” asked Hoseok, but it was a weak attempt at a joke.

“If you're okay with being celibate for the rest of your life, let's do it,” he joked along, just as dryly. “At least you'd help me pay rent.”

“I'd rather help you with not being celibate.”

“No, but really. Can you marry a human if it doesn't work out for you with another incubus?” inquired Kihyun, this time with genuine curiosity.

“I can.” It didn't brighten Hoseok up. “But they will die.”

“Oh...”

“I mean, I will die too. One day. It could take hundreds of years, though. And you humans... you don't even last a hundred.” He seemed to fold into himself as his shoulders sloped further down. “It's so sad.”

“Wait.” Kihyun realized something. “Was that what happened to your parents?”

All he got from Hoseok was a hushed “Yep.”

Wind howled outside. Neons blinked blue, lacquering the glass panes of the windows in a solid layer even though they couldn't get in because the warm light from the inside pushed the cold light out.

“I'm sorry,” offered Kihyun.

“It's okay. My mum's alright. It's been three hundred years, after all.”

“Well, your dad was probably really handsome to sway an inc – wait, a succubus into marrying him,” he said, not as helpful as he would want to.

“I don't know about handsome, but he was talented.”

“Was he?”

“Yes.” Timidly, Hoseok set the empty cup down. The blanket he was huddled in slid down. He wore less jewels draped over his chest tonight. “Maybe you've heard of him.”

Tilting his head, Kihyun prompted Hoseok to continue.

“His pen name was Hyewon.”

It took Kihyun a second.

He almost gasped.

“No fucking way.” Kihyun had to brace himself. “No. Way. Hyewon? Shin Yunbok? _The_ Shin Yunbok? The most renowned of the 'Three Wons' of the time? One of the most famous Joseon Dynasty painters? _Hyewon_?”

“ _One_ of the most famous painters?” repeated Hoseok. “He was the best, just so you know. My mum says so.”

“No wonder his paintings were so erotic when he was married to a succubus!” exclaimed Kihyun, not heeding Hoseok's moodiness. Then, in a more subdued tone, he rambled on: “And no wonder we know so little about his life. I mean, except for the fact that he was the son of a royal court painter. I bet he was so secretive because of your mom.”

“They loved each other a lot,” said Hoseok, glancing down.

“If it helps,” said Kihyun, not knowing what he was going to say next until it slipped out, “no one can take that from them. Not even death.”

Hoseok eventually gazed up.

“It helps a little bit.”

Kihyun was glad.

“But wait,” he said. “I thought your mother's name was Shin. I thought you took your father's surname. Or is it different in the underworld?”

“Pretty much. You take the family name of the parent who's ranked higher. For me, it's obviously my mum.”

“Because your dad was a mortal?”

“Yeah.”

“You said you come from the noble family of Shins when we first met, though.”

“I... my mom always told me to be proud of that,” mumbled Hoseok.

Kihyun pondered over that.

“Yep. He must've been hot.”

They chuckled, and then they giggled, and Kihyun went to make more coffee.

“So...” he said when he came back.

“So?” Hoseok looked up, his lips a little pursed because he'd picked up the habit of blowing on the piping hot beverage before slurping it.

“About your father.”

“What about him?”

“Does your mom perhaps... have some of his old paintings? I mean, paintings that are not stored in museums – paintings the general public has never seen?” inquired Kihyun.

He meant to be polite. And he _was_ interested in history of art. He knew very well that there was no way he'd be allowed to take a peek at lady Lee's collection, not even at Hyewon's unpublished sketches or even his old brushes, but Kihyun didn't mind. A mere description would be more than any other mortal had ever been let in on.

He was even interested in hearing more about Hoseok's parents, whichever of them he chose to talk about.

But Hoseok withered before his eyes.

“No. No, she doesn't. They took it all. The humans. They brandished her after my dad's death and – yeah. She never had the chance to take anything as a keepsake. You see, she doesn't want me to wander through the world alone and she doesn't really want to come back unless it's job-related, either, and so – I can't really go and look –”

“But you've seen his works, haven't you?”

Hoseok hesitated. “Mum tried to repaint some of her favourites for me,” he said. A lone chuckle escaped him. “The thing is, she's really bad at it. And so am I. So – I've _heard_ all about his work – I have his paintings memorized because – because they kind of come to me when I sleep? At least I think – at least that's how I imagine them –”

Hoseok talked in a more and more animated manner, and his smile got wider and wider, and yet it was the worst smile Kihyun had ever seen to split his face. He put his cup down.

“Wait a second.”

“Where –”

“A second.”

He scrambled for his phone. As everything else he owned, the thing was small and a little shabby, no matter how meticulously he cleaned it and took pains so the screen wouldn't crack. He polished it with his sleeve mechanically while he waited for the search bar to appear.

“It's gonna be tiny – but it's better than nothing, isn't it?” muttered Kihyun.

“Was that another innuendo?”

“No,” said Kihyun, but softly.

He handed the phone to Hoseok.

Neons and honey played hide and seek on Hoseok's skin, one coming from the window, one from the dim kitchenette light. There were truly two halves of Hoseok sitting in front of Kihyun now; the demonic half quivering in bluish shadows, and the human half, so doe-eyed that Kihyun almost wrestled the phone back from him so he wouldn't have to see it.

“Is this...”

“This one's called _Lovers Under the Moon_. It's a famous one,” said Kihyun.

“I know,” whispered Hoseok. He said nothing else for a few moments. Fearfully, he lifted two fingers to touch the painting entrapped within the strange small object. But he didn't get to do it. He panicked. “It disappeared. Kihyunnie, it's gone! It's all black! I ruined it!”

“You didn't ruin anything. It's okay. Look.”

Kihyun turned the phone back on.

The painting was still there, spreading in light lavenders and purples.

Hoseok inhaled.

“It's just the way I imagined it,” he said tremulously. “How... where did you get it? Did you steal it?”

“I didn't,” said Kihyun, suppressing a wry sigh. “The real one is in the Gansong Art Museum.“

“How come we can see it?”

“It's called technology. We're inventive, you know. Us measly mortals.” He waited for a bit before he reached out. Gently, he grabbed the phone.

“No, wait – please –”

“I'll show you another one.”

Hoseok stared. He gave way immediately.

Thinking fast, Kihyun started to type. The next watercolour was done in deeper shades. Cobalt blues of the noblemen's clothes contrasted with dark red skirts of two women fighting in the middle of a palace court.

“Can you guess the name of this one?” asked Kihyun.

It didn't surprise him that Hoseok didn't have to look twice.

“ _Dance with Two Swords_ ,” he shot right away.

The picture rooted Hoseok even stronger than the previous one. This time, he touched the screen with slowness bordering on awe, but without fear. He was a quick learner. He already knew how to handle the device so it wouldn't go dead in his hands again. Kihyun watched him as he sat tucked, chin propped on his knee. It was nice, to be able to do something for the poor man. He had nothing else to give him.

But hell. Out of them all, Hoseok really could fool him sometimes.

He looked like a boy.

A lost boy who just had found something forgotten and fond.

Perhaps it was the way he relaxed – the way he no longer flexed or posed or strutted around to elicit a reaction. With his legs crossed and back slightly bent, he was just normal.

“The woman on the right,” said Hoseok suddenly, his voice lower than usual, “the one with her face showing. That's my mum.”

“She's as white as you.”

“Well, we're related,” he quipped quietly.

“Is she good at fencing?”

“She was – back then.” Gazing up, he gave Kihyun a real smile. “I can't wait to tell her.”

But Hoseok didn't have to wait for long.

The sun edged up, breaking through the smog-thick darkness, and Kihyun had no time to tell Hoseok that the weeping willow in Hyewon's  _Gossiping at the Well at Night_ looked like a particularly fat dick.

 

Hoseok was right. The water pressure in this place sucked.

It also sucked that the stream trickling down Kihyun's neck and chest was becoming more and more lukewarm by the minute. He shivered. His skin felt rough to the touch because of the goose bumps prickling it. Quickly shampooing his hair, he rinsed and grabbed the tap when the water turned cold and his feet even colder. He trembled as he walked out of the shower stall.

“Hello, lover.”

Kihyun looked up.

Hoseok stood there, leaning on the doorframe. He was dressed in Kihyun's clothes. Unimpressed, Kihyun wondered why the infuriating incubus even bothered changing when he chose the tightest pair of jeans Kihyun owned. At least the hoodie fit him, even though it threatened to turn into a crop top whenever Hoseok lifted his arms.

He didn't greet Hoseok back as he began to look for a towel. God, it was _freezing._

“So it's true that even a small actor can make big theatre.”

“What was that?”

“You have a nice-sized cock.”

“Thanks, I grew it myself,” said Kihyun wryly. He wrapped a smallish towel around his hips. He really needed to do the laundry. “The show's over.”

Hoseok made a long face.

“Encore,” he whispered cheekily.

“No. It's cold.”

“What does it look like when it's _not_ cold?”

“Still a bit smaller than yours.”

Hoseok was so chuffed that he went pliant, his footsteps sprightly as he followed Kihyun around without breathing down his neck like he usually did.

“Well,” he said pleasantly, “even if it was as tiny as the rest of you. It's not the meat, it's the motion.”

“That's the second euphemism in two minutes. I'm swooning.”

Kihyun slipped on the first thing he laid his eyes on when he opened the wardrobe.

The central heating in the building only gave off tepid waves of what couldn't even be called warmth, so useless that Kihyun hardly slept in his pyjamas anymore. He needed sweaters and sweatpants and socks, and he tossed a pair at Hoseok as well when he noticed his bare feet.

Kihyun supposed he was chuffed tonight, too, which was why he let Hoseok loiter around as he prepared his favourite sizzling beef. It wasn't every day Kihyun could afford to buy all of the ingredients the intricate recipe required, especially if one of the ingredients was tender, mouth-watering hanwoo. He was about to make the most of it.

He decided it wouldn't hurt if Hoseok had a bite, too.

Or a bowl.

He poured together brown sugar, soy sauce, sesame oil, and a dash of white wine, feeling so fancy that he let the bottle on the counter in case he wanted to feel even fancier and pour himself a glass later.

Hoseok went and sniffed at the bottle.

“What is this?”

“Another infernal liquid.”

“Can I try it?”

“Depends on how good you are tonight.”

“I can be good.” His tail swished in assent.

Kihyun sighed. Now the word “good” was ruined for him. He would forever associate it with kinky demi-demons.

He chopped a few cloves of garlic and put them into the marinade along with crushed red pepper. The beef came next and he let it soak as the sugar dissolved. He grilled the meat with scallions softened in vegetable oil.

It didn't even bother him when Hoseok's tail drummed on the counter, once to his left, once to his right, depending on where the man lumbered to look at Kihyun's creation.

When he was done cooking, he poured the wine into two tea mugs. It kind of ruined the whole presentation, but Hoseok didn't know better, so Kihyun had no reason to be ashamed of his modest tableware. Still, he put on some nice music so the dinner wasn't any more ratchet than it needed to be.

They ate so much that the drop of wine he drank after didn't affect him at all.

Hoseok, though, hiccuped violently.

He was a maudlin drunk.

“It really has to be the tail!”

“It's not the tail,” said Kihyun, gathering his patience, or rather scraping for it. “It's just that my dick is broken. It doesn't want anything.”

“But what about your heart?”

“I guess it's broken, too,” he shrugged.

Hoseok hiccuped angrily. “Who broke it!”

“No one. It's just always been this way.”

“But you're _on the list_!”

“I will goddamn eat that shitty list,” promised Kihyun darkly. “I will stuff it up someone's ass.”

“Probably Changkyun's, since he's your favourite,” whispered Hoseok bitterly.

“You said he's married, though. What a shame.”

“That he is. To Hyunwoo the Head Incubus. You trifling little human have no chance.” He saddened. “That was mean. Why am I so mean?”

“It must be the wine, you trifling little half human.”

“I want more.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“I won't be mean,” he pledged. “I want to be fuzzy.”

“You're never mean,” said Kihyun. “You're always fuzzy. You don't need any more wine.”

He sniffed a bit. “Do you think I'm fuzzy?”

“In those sweaters you steal from me, yes.”

“I don't steal. You told me to be your guest.”

“That I did,” acknowledged Kihyun, though the slip was forever going to make him feel silly. “I guess it's because you're my favourite, not Changkyun.”

It took Hoseok a minute to register what Kihyun said. It took Kihyun even longer.

Hoseok shot up.

“I am?”

Gruffly, Kihyun shifted further away from him.

“I guess. You're wearing my stuff and eating away my paycheck like it's nothing and I even sodomized my schedule because of you, so I think it's safe to say that you're kinda growing on me. Like a friendly ulcer.”

Hoseok gaped.

“Speaking of sodomy,” he mumbled.

Kihyun rolled his eyes.

“No.”

“Not even the other way around?”

“Are incubi even allowed to _be_ fucked?”

“I mean – it's not the custom – but I don't think it's forbidden. I could ask around.”

“What if it is?”

“I'd still...”

He turned so timid he didn't even finish.

The Smiths started playing. It was one of the songs Changkyun had made Kihyun put into the playlist he listened before going to bed because it was “pretty and gloomy and shit.” The singer kept pleading for someone to sing them to sleep.

Hoseok sniffed long and hard.

“Ki...”

“No. I am not singing you to sleep.”

Hoseok's face crumpled like a child's.

“No songs, no pecks, no wine, no sex,” he grumbled, his voice watery.

“And also no more beef for you. You ate so much that I'll have to do without lunch tomorrow again,” said Kihyun sternly.

Hoseok rolled over. His broad back stared at Kihyun accusingly. The big bulk he was shuddered once, twice, and then –

“ _Sing to me_ ,” sang Hoseok. The softness of it whispered through the bedroom, filling it to the corners. “ _Sing to me... There is another world... There is a better world..._ ”

It was Kihyun's turn to shudder a little. “How do you know the lyrics?”

“I don't. They come to me.”

“Really?”

There was a hum, a sullen “yes” of sorts.

“Like your father's paintings did?”

Another, slightly less sullen “yes” followed.

Kihyun thought for a moment.

“Sing to me,” he said.

“No. It's no songs for you, either,” muttered Hoseok.

“I see. I see.” Kihyun got up. He took the bottle and put it in the fridge. Ceremoniously, he shut himself inside the bathroom, knowing very well Hoseok was peeking.

He started brushing his teeth. If the incubus planned to spend their nice night brooding, he could go ahead. Kihyun would just sleep. That would show him.

When he walked back into the room, Hoseok was still lying on his side, except now he was facing Kihyun. He was done pouting.

Kihyun turned off the light. It got dark. It got so dark that the blackness tainted his fingers as he groped around to find the bed.

The sheets stopped rustling. There was nothing but the groan of wind and the cracks and creaks of the old building. Kihyun's ears grew cold. He wrapped himself tighter, but then he remembered Hoseok and he lifted the blanket up. Chills seeped into him, but he waited. He heard the body next to him shift. The mattress underneath him moved, denting to the right. He let go of the blanket.

“No touching,” Kihyun reminded him.

“I know. I don't want to get burned.”

“I'm sorry for giving you the wine.”

“Don't be,” implored Hoseok. His voice was runny, but he'd stopped hiccuping. Until he gave the last, smallest hiccup of them all. “You must be so mad at me, though.”

“For what?”

“For... trying.”

“It's your job.”

“But... this is your life. I keep barging in.”

Kihyun wasn't quite ready for this to become deep hours. He just wanted that song.

He told Hoseok so.

“Really?” Hoseok blinked. “You weren't just teasing me?”

“No? It sounded pretty. And I never had someone sing to _me_. It's always the other way around.”

“I'll do it then,” promised Hoseok, lifting his head a little to see better in the dark.

“Hoseok,” said Kihyun.

“Yes?” he said softly.

“Promise me you won't use this to give me dreams or hallucinations. Or worse.”

He didn't want to hallucinate. He didn't want to wake up crossed to the bed and paralyzed.

“I won't,” he replied.

“Okay.” Kihyun closed his eyes. “Go ahead.”

Hoseok started singing.

 

“So I may have let the incubus sleep next to me.”

Jooheon groaned. His skin was pale and clammy with cold, almost unhealthy under the eyes, sporting a bluish-red, bruised tint. He had probably spent the whole week of his trip to Igidae awake, hiking by day and staring at the screen of his laptop at night. He had tried to get Kihyun to go with him, but the winter break was around the corner and Kihyun had one too many essays to hand in and presentations to give. He couldn't afford to go anywhere until then. It was stressful enough as it was, to push through the last few days of school before the holiday started.

The presentations were the worst. Kihyun was by no means shy, but his perfectionist side always got the best of him. He could be quite neurotic, as Jooheon liked to point out, and speaking in public left him rigid and perspiring.

Really, sometimes he could use Hoseok's non-sweaty body.

As in, it would be nice to be in it.

Kihyun cringed. However he tried to word it in his mind, it sounded wrong. At least he had enough sense not to say it out loud.

“Hyung, you told me you had it all under control.” The younger man brought him from the depths of his thoughts.

“I did.” Nursing a tall cup of cocoa, Kihyun pulled it closer. He tasted the whipped cream on top. “I do.”

“Right. Is that why the monster's sleeping in your bed?”

“He would do it regardless. But I kind of let him...”

Jooheon looked positively horrified.

“What. You _what_. Hyung!”

“No – not that. You know I don't work like that. But I sort of let him... lull me.”

“I leave for one week,” whined Jooheon, “and this is what happens.”

“I mean, it's not that big of a deal, is it?” Kihyun reached for a paper towel and wiped an invisible stain from the shiny wooden table they sat at. “He just sang to me once until I fell asleep. It was – pure. He's still getting nothing out of it. I'm just being amicable.”

“Pure,” repeated Jooheon dubiously. “Amicable.”

“Yes. We're stuck with each other because he doesn't seem to want to give up, so the least I can do is be polite.” Kihyun forced himself to shrug. “Besides, you always tell me I should be more sociable.”

“Is sleeping with random dudes you being sociable?”

“Well, if you put it like this.”

“It's bad enough that you're even indulging him! Did you forget he's a demon?”

A waiter passed by their table, one eyebrow delicately raised. He probably thought they were gossiping about one-night stands and fuckboys.

“He's not a demon,” said Kihyun in a hushed tone so no one would hear him. “He's half human.”

“And half demon. I don't fuck with demons.” He flinched. “Literally.”

Kihyun loosened up a little.

“Perhaps you haven't found the right succubus yet.” Alhough Gain, Jooheon's girlfriend, was as close to being one that she would probably be able to square up with any kind of demon and walk from the fight victorious.

“Kihyun, I'm not kidding around. You have to be careful.”

“So it's Kihyun now, is it. I'm not your hyung anymore. Great.” He stirred the cocoa. “I feel like you're reproaching me.”

“That's because I am,” said Jooheon hotly. He got so serious that his dimples dipped deeper, spreading in two shadowy brushstrokes over his cheeks. “Did you forget what happened the last time when an incubus tried to play friends with you? Did you forget how freaked out you were after he attacked you? I had never seen you this scared before that nutcase choked you! Never! Not once!”

“That's different. The last one... He caught me unawares. He'd been plotting the whole time,” said Kihyun, still rather bitter than he hadn't seen through the man's facade.

“And what makes you think this one isn't plotting?”

“Because he's too rash to plan. He's always so head-on.”

“Well – what if he does something rash and hurts you?”

“He can't. He doesn't have my permission,” said Kihyun firmly. “He can't do anything that wouldn't hurt him first.”

It didn't smoothen the tiny storm within Jooheon.

“Hyung, this is mad. You're way too casual about this. It's like you don't even care anymore. Doesn't it hinder your life? Doesn't it frighten you that you can't do anything to repel him since he's so strong? What if – what if he never leaves? It's giving me creeps to even think about it.”

“I suppose one gets used to anything, eventually,” said Kihyun.

Jooheon wasn't happy with that response.

“You should move out. You should move in with me. Maybe it's the flat or the chair – but whatever it is, you have to get out. This is the _fourth_ one. It's not funny anymore.”

“I don't think it matters where I live. Apparently, I am still on their little list.” Kihyun took a calm sip. “Hoseok would just follow me to your parents' house.”

“Hoseok!”

“Oh, don't start.”

“I see you've been getting chummy,” exclaimed Jooheon. All of a sudden, he was all baby-faced. And worried. And perhaps he had a reason.

More than ever, Kihyun wanted to make him see that the incubi infestation in his studio wasn't exactly the end of the world.

“Look, he's not like the rest of them. He hasn't given me a single nightmare. I haven't had sleep paralysis since he showed up,” he coaxed.

“That might be a part of his plan. You don't know what kind of mind games he's playing.”

Kihyun realized that. Still, it was better than _having_ sleep paralysis.

He'd rather be taken for a fool than drown every other night, swallowed by black seas as he saw the surface close over him.

“Look, Hoseok – he – the incubus – okay, this is ridiculous. I'll just call him Hoseok because that's his name. He's nicer than the others. He's like Changkyun.”

“Who?”

“Kkukkung. You liked him.”

“Kkukkung was a good kid. He never tried to grind on your junk,” hissed Jooheon, mindful of the eavesdropping waiter who floated past their spot for the fourth time since they'd sat down. “He just wanted to listen to music and cuddle.”

“Now you're just biased,” said Kihyun. “That's exactly what Hoseok wants to do too.”

“Are you forgetting that grinding on your dick part?”

“Can we not talk about my dick?” Kihyun blanched. “I'd rather it didn't exist.”

“My point still stands, even if your dick doesn't.”

Kihyun pulled a face.

“This is Gain's influence,” he announced with grim admiration. “This must be the first dick joke you've ever made in your life.”

“Don't try to weasel your way out of this conversation, hyung. I'm not letting you. Back to the topic.”

“Jesus. Everyone wants to ride my dick nowadays.”

Jooheon threw a biscuit at him.

“So about that Hoseok dude grinding on you.”

“Look – he hasn't done it ever since. Yeah, he's persistent, but he hangs around because he has to. I think he's _desperate_. Like, not for my junk, but to fulfill his task. He's only ever botched one job before, and it wasn't even fully his fault. But if he comes home empty-handed this time, everyone will say he's failed because he's half human. They call him _half-born_ , for fuck's sake.”

“That's sad,” said Jooheon, obviously not moved at all. “Remember that scene in Reservoir Dogs? The Steve Buscemi scene?” Slowly, he put his hand up and started rubbing two of his fingers together. “You know what this is? It's the world's smallest violin and it's playing just for Hoseok.”

Kihyun rolled his eyes.

“You know I hate Tarantino.”

“I hate him too, dude. What a massive edgelord.”

“And what he did to Uma Thurman? Is he even a man?”

“I hate him,” seethed Jooheon. Then he softened. “But I love Steve Buscemi.”

“Man, hard same.”

“I see,” resounded behind Kihyun in a tone he knew all too well. “I see.”

It was pleasantly warm in the coffee shop. Ambient music was playing and a halo of low, rosy light dissipated from little shaded lamps. It was cosy, and quiet, and peaceful.

Every single hair on Kihyun's body stood up.

The look on Jooheon's face – blank at first, and then not blank at all because it brimmed over with realization – mirrored Kihyun's thoughts perfectly.

He turned his head.

Hoseok loomed behind him paler than ever. Even here, where everything was rose-tinted and basked in warm tones, his skin soaked the colours in and shimmered pallid, drained of any colour at all. A bright blue beanie bulged where it hid his horns. He wore Kihyun's bomber, but the fashionably short piece was _way_ too short on him, riding up to show his hip bones. His _naked_ hip bones. He shivered once and Kihyun's eyes fell to the ground where he saw that Hoseok had on a pair of socks, but no shoes. The socks were drenched and blackened with grime.

His eyes rose again. When he looked closely, he noticed there was a little bit of colour in Hoseok's face after all. His nostrils were blushed red.

Hoseok took two steps forward. He stopped by Kihyun's seat. Wordlessly, he moved his chin as if to tell Kihyun to scoot over.

Stupefied, he did.

Hoseok sat down heavily, the cushioned bench groaning under him.

“Hello, lover,” he said very quietly, very eerily. His gaze was searing holes into Jooheon's hands, which rested by a high glass of sweet tea. Little by little, it climbed up. “I see you have a company.”

“Hoseok, what the fuck,” managed Kihyun.

“Oh, don't mind me. I will just wait until this... meeting... is over.”

“Go back home!”

Hoseok's lips pursed. “I was there the whole time. Waiting. There was no food, so I thought you went to buy some. I thought, _oh, Kihyunnie is probably on his way back already_. So I waited for you. For hours. Alone.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kihyun could see that Jooheon's eyes almost fell out of his head at the term of endearment.

“I meant _your_ home. Go, Hoseok. I don't have time for you today.”

“I can see that,” he murmured.

“Then go. We can hang out tomorrow, alright?”

“I'm not going anywhere. You know I can't.”

Kihyun breathed in deeply. He felt a pulling kind of pain settle over the bridge of his nose, the force of it not dissimilar to a headache.

“At least go back to my place. I'll come back in an hour or two. Okay? You can't stay here dressed like this. You're – what – what the fuck are you even wearing? Why do you always have to wear the smallest shit I own? Do you want to catch a cold?”

“We don't get cold,” said Hoseok sharply even as he sniffed. His knuckles had reddened at the sudden warmth inside the coffee shop.

“Like shit. Where are your shoes?”

“You don't have any that would fit me,” he shot back in a whisper. “You have the tiniest fucking feet.”

“So you walked shoeless!” exclaimed Kihyun. “Through the whole neighbourhood! How did you even find me?”

“Your face came to me.”

All the while, Jooheon was unable to do anything besides stare dumbly.

Kihyun turned to him with an apologetic expression that may have been more sour than sorry.

“Sorry,” he muttered anyway. “Finish your drink, I'll pay for it. I have to walk him back.”

“He's huge,” gritted Jooheon through clenched teeth, silently, as if expecting Hoseok not to hear him.

“Yeah, a huge pest,” grumbled Kihyun, glad to see that the unmovable mass next to him did move at last, if only to glare.

“Kihyun, don't go,” warned Jooheon. He was avoiding the incubus's eyes. “Stay here. Don't go alone with him now.”

“I can't let him freeze.”

“It will send him back to hell faster.”

“I don't feel cold,” echoed Hoseok for himself.

Kihyun let a thin breath hiss through his teeth, the sound long and frustrated. He reached for his wallet and pulled out a couple of bills. He handed them to Jooheon. Jooheon pushed them back towards him. Frowning, Kihyun pushed them back towards Jooheon. Jooheon pushed them back towards Kihyun.

“I've got it.”

“No, I invited you.”

“You invited him!” said Hoseok.

“And you're younger,” continued Kihyun, doing his best to ignore Hoseok's interruption.

“And spoiled by my loving parents who give me enough pocket money to treat you and who would be grateful to have you over if anything happens,” said Jooheon, putting weight into every word.

“Nothing's gonna happen. Don't worry.”

“Still. I don't like this. I don't like this at all. He's –” began Jooheon. He darted a quick look at Hoseok. After that, he lost the last remnants of his pettiness, which meant he was no longer brave enough to speak. He took in the bulk that was Hoseok, withering. His throat tightened.

“He's Hoseok the Half Human,” said Kihyun in a voice which he reserved for when Jooheon was being particularly lily-livered. “And this is Jooheon, my friend who is afraid of half humans.” He turned to Hoseok. “Say hello.”

At that, Hoseok wavered.

“Jooheon?” he mouthed at Kihyun. “The one who's dating the older woman?”

“Yes,” Kihyun mouthed back. “Do you feel silly now? And I invited him _for tea_ , not for anything frisky.”

“I can hear you both,” said Jooheon, his eyes narrowing.

Hoseok looked like he had other things to say.

“Hullo,” he muttered instead.

Tilting his head, Kihyun raised his brows at Jooheon.

The younger man pouted as hard as Hoseok.

“Hey,” he said almost imperceptibly.

“Now, that wasn't so difficult, was it.”

The two men shuffled their feet. It reminded Kihyun of the whole no shoes situation. Without touching him, he gestured to Hoseok.

“Up. Come on.” When the body next to him didn't move, Kihyun scowled on purpose. “We're going home.”

“Are you coming with me?”

“Yes. But we need to dress you first. Hurry,” he prompted him.

With one more offer to pay for the drinks and one more mumbled “sorry,” Kihyun ushered Hoseok to the restroom. He paddled with his hands in the air as if it to push Hoseok forward. Of course, Kihyun couldn't really push him, and he wouldn't be able to do it even if he actually physically tried, because, as Jooheon had said, Hoseok was huge. That didn't stop Kihyun from paddling to make Hoseok walk faster. People were beginning to stare, whether it was because of Kihyun's nervous antics or because of Hoseok's clothes; or rather lack thereof.

The restroom was tiny. Kihyun shook off his parka.

“Take it off,” he nodded towards Hoseok's – his own _–_ bomber. “Really, out of everything you could've picked, it had to be the skimpiest shit I own. Am I even remotely surprised? Am I even moderately shocked at this point? No, I don't think so,” he rambled under his breath. He glanced up. Hoseok just stood there. “I said take it off. I won't have you strutting around like a walking invitation for the flu. Let's swap clothes.”

Hoseok's nipples were dark when he unzipped the bomber. They were so dark due to the cold that they turned a crimson shade of brown. As he undressed, his tail peeked at Kihyun from behind his shoulder. Until now, it had been trapped under the fabric.

At least Hoseok had enough common sense to hide the thing.

It did very little to lessen Kihyun's exasperation.

“And _of course_ you didn't put on a sweater or at least a shirt,” Kihyun prattled on.

“We don't get cold,” said Hoseok. Loudly. His ears were translucently coral-pink against the wall light that shone behind him. He took the parka and put it on. He looked down at his toes and wiggled them. “'M sorry about the socks, though. I ruined them.”

“They wouldn't be ruined if you didn't decide to become a wandering spirit,” spat Kihyun. “What were you thinking, Hoseok? You told me you're not allowed to wander. You told me your mother didn't like it.”

“But you were gone,” defended Hoseok. “I was scared.”

“Scared of what? That I might live like a regular person for once? That I might have some peace for a change? I leave for one night – for a couple of hours, really – and suddenly there's a pissy demon – sorry, a pissy incubus hounding me down in public.” He exhaled. “I should be the one who's scared. Do you think this is funny? Do you think I belong to you or something?”

“No – but I belong to you,” said Hoseok, taking the wind out of Kihyun's sails. “I do. Until you... until we...”

He sneezed.

He sneezed so hard there was a gasp in one of the toilet stalls.

Kihyun glanced down at Hoseok's pitiful feet again. He was rubbing them onto each other.

“Give me one of your chains,” he said out of the blue. “I'll sell it – we have to get you some fucking shoes, even if it's just a pair of slippers. You can wait inside with Jooheon before I get back –”

“I can't do that. The chains will disappear when I do.”

“Fuck.”

“I'll walk,” said Hoseok quietly. “I don't mind.”

“I hope you catch the nastiest flu ever,” lied Kihyun. “I hope it's so bad that you're suffering like an Austenian heroine. Legit, like, dying, but not really.”

Hoseok sneezed again.

Groaning, Kihyun kicked off his shoes and rolled off his socks.

“Wear these.”

“'S okay.”

“If you don't put the goddamn socks on right now, I am feeding them to you. I can't give you my shoes – because apparently I have the tiniest fucking feet – but at least...” he trailed off.

He knew it wasn't going to make that much difference.

But the wet dog look Hoseok was sporting dug at him like a spade digs into frigid ground after a long and unforgiving winter. He'd hardened himself against incubi, just like earth seals over under a layer of ice and snow, so the impact of the spade carving him out was all the greater and sharper.

“Please, put them on,” said Kihyun.

“I don't want to ruin another pair.”

“Like it matters.”

Kihyun bent over and stuffed his bare feet back into his boots. He saw Hoseok crouch as well from the corner of his eye, rolling the clean sock on gingerly.

Good.

The air outside stood breezeless and all the more caustic. It was like walking into a solid mass of water. Salt grain-small snowflakes fell from the sky, sporadically floating to settle on Kihyun's skin. They reminded him of crushed ice.

Kihyun picked up the quickest pace he could. Display windows became a string of lambent lights seeping into one another as he sped past shops and restaurants. Beside him, Hoseok walked just as swiftly, his breath barely deepening.

They didn't talk. Kihyun didn't trust himself not to grumble and be unpleasant.

He darted a glance at the wet, rime-licked pavement from time to time. Slushed snow and puddles squelched under Hoseok's feet.

It was only a ten minute walk. It felt three hundred years long to Kihyun.

He unlocked the door to his studio. As always, inside it could hardly be called warm. He put the lights on and went to lower the blinds. The window pane was speckled with hardened flecks of snow.

Hoseok gave a muffled sneeze, choking on the sound.

“Go take a shower,” commanded Kihyun. His own feet _burned_ with a stinging cool sensation. More cold oozed from the floor as he marched across the room. “I'll find some clean clothes for you.”

“Kihyun.”

“Yeah?”

“You didn't mean it, did you.”

“Mean what.”

“The flu thing,” whispered Hoseok.

Kihyun didn't think he was the one who should feel all kinds of shitty, but he sort of did.

“Of course not.”

“Kihyunnie?”

“Yes?” he said tersely.

“Who's Steve Buscemi?”

“Shower,” clipped Kihyun. “Now.”

“No, I want to know. You said you loved him. But you said your heart is...” Hoseok stopped. At first, Kihyun thought that he was fighting off another sneeze or perhaps a fit of coughing, but all Hoseok did was grasp for words. “I thought it wasn't me. But it is. Isn't it? I'm the one who's wrong. There could be someone who succeeds, but it's not me.”

“Hoseok, I won't have this conversation right now. You're misunderstanding things.”

“Then explain them to me.”

“After you've warmed up, alright? Alright?” Kihyun tried to hold Hoseok's gaze although the other man kept evading him. “We can talk about this whole shit show until the sun rises, if you insist. But now, move it.”

“Shit show,” he said bitterly. “It's a shit show that I was scared.”

“Hoseok, if you keep standing here like this, you'll catch that fucking flu.”

“I don't care.”

“I do. I care.”

It was Hoseok's turn to deflate.

His fingers curled and opened again, like big pale magnolia blossoms grasping for sunlight.

Kihyun walked around him and grabbed a pair of dishwashing gloves by the sink. He slipped them on and whirled back. Naturally, Hoseok was already there with him, standing too close, too serious, too physically present in the small space the kitchenette offered.

“I will do it if you won't,” threatened Kihyun. He was gloved and fearless.

The only thing he feared was this demi-demon coming down with a human cold.

What if he began sneezing fire along the way, or something.

He put his hands up to give Hoseok one last warning. Hoseok stood there, strong, a breathing statue. A statue with a boy's face.

Kihyun reached up and pulled off Hoseok's beanie, tousling the soft fringe underneath. His horns poked in between the black strands.

He waited. Still, Hoseok didn't move.

Controlling his expression, Kihyun unbuttoned Hoseok's parka. He tugged down the zipper. He glanced up and down.

Nothing.

Okay.

He pushed the fur-lined piece of clothing off Hoseok's shoulders. It pooled around his feet. Kihyun didn't wait for anything after that. He crouched and tapped at Hoseok's ankle to get him to lift one leg off the ground. When Hoseok complied, Kihyun peeled off one sock, then the other one; and then the other pair. The fabric was completely soiled. Hoseok's toes were pruned.

Steadily, Kihyun straightened up. He threw the socks away and they landed wetly somewhere by the waste bin.

Kihyun unclasped each and every fine gold chain that tinkled over Hoseok's chest and stomach. Carefully as not to tangle them, Kihyun laid them down on the counter, one by one. He turned back. There were no more jewels or harnesses on Hoseok's body.

His hands hesitated.

Hoseok watched him the whole time; but right then, his eyes blazed blacker.

“You're really not going to cooperate, are you,” muttered Kihyun.

Instead of answering, Hoseok pressed forward.

“No.” Kihyun flinched away. “You'll burn yourself.”

“I don't care.”

“But I do!”

It became so quiet after he said it that he could hear it when the snow began to fall in flurries outside, pattering on the window. He got hoarse. He tried to speak with his eyes. His voice left him when the words did.

There were tiny spots on Hoseok's chest from up close, either freckles or faded scars or other blemishes. To keep him away, and to keep him close, Kihyun placed his gloved hand between Hoseok's collarbones, his palm and fingers open.

He'd had Hoseok's weight on top of him before, but this was an entirely different kind of weight – heaviness. The way his body pushed back, the way it _lived_ under Kihyun's touch, heart and breath and all, terrified him.

He was human.

Not _a_ human, but a being of flesh.

Mortal.

He inhaled.

Hoseok pressed forth the slightest bit. He lifted one arm. With steady but shy fingertips, he hovered above Kihyun's hair. In a flutter, his middle finger dipped lower. A layer of air separated them, paper-thin but so full that Kihyun almost felt the touch. Hoseok let his hand run down Kihyun's face in a straight line, as if halving it. Kihyun didn't back away.

His eyelids closed with the motion.

The world was wordless, and dark, and Kihyun listened to the snow.

“This is the first time I consent to everything,” said Hoseok, his lips parted only so his thoughts would come out, hushed. “Isn't it funny. When I finally choose it, I can't have it.”

“I'm not _it_.”

“I meant being with you,” frowned Hoseok.

“You are. You are with me right now.”

“No. Not the way other people are.”

“You have weird ideas about people and what we do, then. Because this thing we're doing? That's exactly how people spend time together. They talk. They share thoughts. They don't have to be all over each other all the time.”

“That's not what I meant,” murmured Hoseok.

“I won't sleep with you,” said Kihyun.

“I'm telling you that's not what I meant. I'm not talking about sex. I'm talking about us.”

Unrushed, Kihyun opened his eyes and looked at him, his eyes hooded. The shadowy fans of his eyelashes darkened his vision.

“What about us?”

“I'm restless when I'm not with you.” Hoseok sighed out, the unrest he spoke of palpable in his tone. “I was terrified today – not that you might be with someone else, but that something could have happened to you. And when I saw you... when I saw you with him...”

“It was just Jooheon.”

“But I didn't know. I – I almost threw up when I saw you two together. Here?” he gestured to his stomach. “What _was_ that? Why was I so mad? It was worse than wine. It was almost as bad as burning.”

“Were you jealous?” asked Kihyun, owlish.

Hoseok grew smaller. “Was I?”

“You're asking me?”

“Yes, you. You're the human here. Kihyun, I've never been jealous before. We _can't_ be jealous.”

“You could've been hungry.”

He was trying to be rational. Apparently, it didn't please Hoseok.

“It wasn't hunger,” he said, his temper rising.

“If it wasn't hunger and it wasn't jealousy, I don't know what it was.”

“It was – it was the saddest thing. I know that it wasn't really, but it was so physical. It was like –”

“Seeing you without shoes.”

A shiver ran through him.

Hoseok shivered with him.

“So you felt it,” he said softly. “You feel it.”

“I don't know,” said Kihyun. “I don't know if it's the same thing.”

He was sure he had to look haunted. He wasn't a pretty sight when he focused on something. Everything about him turned knife-like, too severe to be pleasant. He supposed it wasn't any different from when he weakly attempted to focus on his emotions, scowling. There were some. He wasn't emotionless. Wasn't a machine. But no matter how hard he tried, he had no tangible emotion to hold on to present it to Hoseok. No single string of thoughts to grasp at.

Except for that carved-out sensation in his gut.

“I haven't tried to repel you in weeks. But that may be all I can do for you,” he said at last.

“You said that you care,” retorted Hoseok.

“I do. That hardly matters, though. You said it yourself. We don't even last a hundred. Even if we... it will be temporary.”

“It's still better than not being with you. Not knowing where you are.”

“But what about your parents? Did you forget how they hurt? Do you think this hurts less?” blurted Kihyun. “Just because I don't know what to call it, it doesn't mean it's easier to lose it.”

“So it really does hurt. Doesn't it?” asked Hoseok timidly. “It hurts you, too.”

“I don't know _why_ it hurts, though. It might not be it at all. It might not be what you want it to be.”

Rushing, Hoseok reached for him only for Kihyun to retreat. He shook his head and Hoseok seemed to nod. Still, hands back at his sides, he carried on.

“We can find out.”

“And if it's it, then what? You'll watch me die.”

Hoseok had no idea how to reply to that.

His brow furrowed.

“Let me deal with that,” he said in the end.

Nothing happened for a while.

Hoseok was the first to back away. He looked behind his shoulder towards the bathroom door and back. He glanced somewhere between Kihyun's throat and collarbones. Noiselessly, he took the rest of his clothes off: the offensively tight leather pants under which he wore nothing.

Without all those chains jangling on him in soft whispers, it didn't make sense. It was wrong. Kihyun had seen Hoseok naked before. He'd seen it all and then some. But it was...

He averted his gaze.

“Go already,” said Kihyun. “Go shower.”

Hoseok went.

 

It was the worst night so far.

It was less so for the amount of texts Jooheon bombarded him with or the fact that Hoseok stole his phone to take a peek at Steve Buscemi, and more so because not even a strong cup of tea with a slice of lemon squeezed in it could do much about Hoseok's health at this point. Kihyun fixed a quick meal for him, a pot of sorry, meatless soup, but it didn't fight off Hoseok's sneezes. Neither did the blanket, or the second blanket, or the second cup of tea.

The man was gone.

Kihyun learned that Hoseok wasn't merely a professional tracker of fugitive friends and an even more professional pouter. He was also a first-class whiner.

He demanded to be spoon-fed. Kihyun refused.

He demanded to cuddle. Kihyun refused and stroked his hair instead, his gloved fingers poking the tips of Hoseok's horns every once in a while. They weren't sharp, but they dug into the pads of his fingers in a funny way. Strangely, Hoseok sighed when someone played with his hair or horns or both. He did the same when Kihyun brushed his ears.

Hoseok tried to wheedle a song out of Kihyun, too, though by that time he was so out of it that he didn't even recognize it wasn't Kihyun's voice singing to him. Instead of straining his throat, Kihyun played Gunhee's _Red Light_ on repeat because he had promised Jooheon to stream the track and because he actually liked it. God, when Gun was soft, he was good.

Feverish, Hoseok hummed along. And when he couldn't hum anymore, he just achooed pathetically, his whole face runny as it stained the pillow in Kihyun lap. Wrapped up, Hoseok had nestled himself there without Kihyun noticing, and then it was too late to move even as the infectious incubus fell asleep.

Letting out a sigh, Kihyun scrambled for his phone again. He replied to Jooheon's texts (for what felt was the twentieth time) and then browsed the university website for news and announcements. He sorted through his emails, not that he got so many.

In his fitful slumber, Hoseok kept tossing and turning. Kihyun had to evade him whenever he rolled over so the poor man wouldn't wake up screaming. At one point, Kihyun hit his head on the wall when Hoseok gave a particularly abrupt start. After that, Kihyun just held him down as he rubbed the back of his head with his free hand. The dull pain went away quickly, but Kihyun was sore anyway.

What a day. What an evening. What a night.

The studio was lit up, the light stinging Kihyun's eyes, and Hoseok's body was becoming heavier by the minute.

Sitting up and run-down, Kihyun dozed off a couple of times. At every start and rush of consciousness, Kihyun regretted that he wasn't wearing his face mask to protect himself from Hoseok's cooties. His spine started to ache when a groany cough forced him awake. But it wasn't him who was coughing. It was Hoseok.

His eyes were glazed over. Uncertain, Kihyun palmed his forehead as if he could check his temperature over those thick gloves. The coolness of the contact seemed to relieve Hoseok.

He looked up. Kihyun looked down.

There it was again. The sensation that someone had cleaned out his insides. With a rake.

It was worry.

But he'd worried about Hoseok from the beginning. About his bare feet and exposed chest and those too tightly clasped chains.

Musing, Kihyun brushed circles over Hoseok's temples. It wasn't what he wanted it to be. What Hoseok wanted it to be. It couldn't be it. It wouldn't be this bad. This – bitter. It would be sweet. There would be boners and bated breaths.

Hoseok fought off chills, but kept failing. He shook. He was so sweaty that he almost smelled unpleasant. Unhealthy. Too hot, similar to dying cinders.

“I'm so sorry, Kihyun,” he mumbled, startling the younger man. His gaze turned glassy.

“No,” he mumbled. “I'm sorry.”

He was. So fucking sorry.

A ray crept inside. It slid over Hoseok's pallid skin.

Hoseok was gone.

 


	3. Hyung, Your Walnut Chin Is Showing

Kihyun had been wrong. Last night hadn't been the worst.

This night was.

Hoseok didn't show up. Instead of him, there were three other guys sprawled in Kihyun's tiny studio.

It appeared that Jooheon considered it necessary to bring Yoongi and Gunhee along for his little intervention. The room looked cramped with all of them inside. Everyone except for Kihyun stayed huddled in their puffy down jackets. It wasn't warm inside, but it was stuffy.

Resigned, Kihyun took the leftover fancy wine out of the fridge and passed it around, the bottle chilled. He didn't drink. He just sat in the chair, folded, and he brooded.

“Don't brood,” Jooheon chastised him. “We're here to help you.”

“And to ravage my fridge.”

“Like there's anything in it.”

“There's plenty of food in it. It's just not the quick, cheap, greasy –”

“Hyung, we're here to find out what happened yesterday after you left,” Jooheon cut him off. He was so stern that he lost his signature plump pout.

Brooding harder, Kihyun sank into his seat.

“Nothing.”

“Did he hurt you?”

“No,” said Kihyun resolutely. “And now I know he never will.”

“How so?” challenged Gunhee. The guy looked cheeky no matter what, but right now he just seemed immersed in the demon drama.

“He – caught feelings, I think,” muttered Kihyun lamely. For some reason, it shamed him to say it. As if it were his own feelings.

“What else is new?” remarked Jooheon with some exasperation. “I could see that yesterday.”

“You could?” Kihyun blinked.

“The dude ran after you in the worst weather practically stripper-naked just to find where you are. And he glared at me, hyung!”

“He didn't _glare._ ”

“He glared so bad that I almost pissed myself. I had to sleep over at Gain's.”

“You do that every other night, anyway,” Kihyun dismissed him.

“Yeah, but out of love, not out of fear!”

“Sometimes you do it out of fear of Gain,” pointed out Gunhee and passed the wine to Yoongi.

“But it's still the hot kind of fear,” defended Jooheon. “This time, I shook in her bed like a baby.”

“So, like every other night,” said Gunhee and Kihyun at the same time.

They did finger guns at each other.

“What exactly did the half human say?” asked Yoongi, fluffing up his scarf drowsily.

“Can we please call him Hoseok? Please?”

“What did Hoseok say?” Yoongi corrected himself without any further remarks.

“He –” Kihyun faltered. Why had he agreed to this again? “He said something along the lines that he would stay with me even if it hurt him in the end. You know. Because incubi live for hundreds of years and we don't.”

“Is that why you put out?” grinned Gunhee. “Because he confessed to you and promised to love you even when you're nothing but bones and ashes?”

Kihyun bristled up. “I did not put out.”

“He's not here, though. Which means that you either exorcised him, or he got what he wanted.”

“I would be passed out on the ground after a round with an incubus,” said Kihyun tersely. “We didn't fuck. I don't feel that way about him.”

“Well, who knows what might have happened.” Gunhee shrugged innocently. “That's why we're here to find out.”

“We didn't fuck. We don't touch each other. I don't want to, which means he would burn if he tried.”

He shivered. He remembered the all too physical presence Hoseok commanded when they were in the same room; the way he was wrought of flesh and not of shadows and glimmers; the way he had almost traced Kihyun's face.

“And that's alright. But if he likes you and you like him back, you might want to be with him – eventually.” Yoongi took a swig. He handed the bottle to Jooheon. “And even if you never want to be with him sexually, you might still want to _be with him_. You're asexual, not aromantic.”

“You could be demisexual, too,” said Gunhee. His mouth split wider. “Demisexual for your demi-demon.”

Kihyun frowned.

“I shall suffer no puns.”

“Aw, come on. It was a good one.”

“It was mediocre. And who even said I liked him?” demanded Kihyun. “I said _he_ caught feelings. Not me. And he caught a cold on top of that, which is why he isn't here now. You would have known if you'd let me speak and stopped making a spectacle out of my sexuality.”

“Incubi can get sick?”

“Apparently,” clipped Kihyun. Then he folded himself tighter in the chair. He picked at the armrest. “It looked pretty nasty, too. It was like watching several days worth of footage, but sped up. One minute, he was just sneezing, but then – it all went downhill.”

Observing him, Jooheon furrowed his brows. He didn't exactly soften at Kihyun's words. Nevertheless, he sounded more approachable when he spoke up.

“Was it bad?”

“He had a fever,” murmured Kihyun. “I tried to help him, so I made him some tea and soup, but I was too afraid to feed him any medicine. I mean, what if I messed everything up even more? So I just... I just had to watch.”

“Maybe he'll get over it sooner than we do,” suggested Yoongi. “If he gets sick quickly, he might get well quickly as well.”

“But what if he won't?” said Kihyun, too sober to feed himself hope. “What if it's serious and they won't ever send him back? What if he just – disappears?”

“Well, isn't that what you wanted?”

Kihyun pressed his lips together.

True, it was what he'd been striving for. To repel him. To live a quiet life. To be left in peace. Kihyun was used to solitude and sought after it so actively that it was sometimes as tiring as being around people. He was no hermit, but he didn't think he was cut to be someone's companion, either. Hoseok couldn't change that. He couldn't change that Kihyun wasn't made to experience all those things people usually experience. The change would have to come from within. And it would've already happened by now if Hoseok was the one. Right? Kihyun would have given in ages ago.

The only thing he had given up for Hoseok were his monthly savings, his sleep, and his lonely nights.

Wait.

“Hyung, your walnut chin is showing.”

“I'm thinking,” huffed Kihyun.

“About him?”

“Obviously. This whole intervention is about him,” he said rather pettily.

In his sleepy-but-actually-wide-awake manner, Yoongi remarked:

“Don't get pissy at us. You can't blame us for giving a shit. Look, I didn't think this talk was necessary, but now I do. You're pretty out of it, Kihyun. You look so fucked up. You look all – tiny. Like, tinier than usual.”

“That's because I'm worried,” whispered Kihyun. “It's so weird when he's gone.”

In all honesty, Kihyun had expected Hoseok to be back, blushed with the illness and as high maintenance as ever. He had bought some ginger earlier so he could prepare ginger tea and nurse the heck out of the incubus. Now he had a fridgeful of ginger and no one to nurse.

“Sorry, do you _want_ him back?” asked Gunhee.

“I want to know he's alright.”

“He'll probably be back in a couple of days,” said Yoongi. “It's a cold. He'll live.”

“Will he?” Kihyun glanced up and straight at him. “I don't know if he'll live. That's the thing. He could be dead or damned as we speak.”

“Why damned?”

“He's half-born,” supplied Jooheon. “It's a discrimination thing. If he doesn't get into hyung's pants, he's gonna get bigger backlash for it than the other incubi would.”

“I should've just let him sap my energy.” Kihyun gave an unconscious scoff. “He'd be alright now. Maybe it would've even healed him.”

But he would be gone.

Once Hoseok succeeded, he would have to go after another victim.

What was the deal with Hoseok's parents' marriage, anyway? Was there some kind of law for it? Had lady Lee visited other mortals while married to Hyewon? Kihyun wondered if Hoseok would be allowed to stay loyal. To stay.

Tired, Kihyun looked up.

Everyone was staring at him.

“What,” he said.

“Did you just say you should've let Hoseok sap your energy?”

“Everything would be solved right now,” said Kihyun, more stubborn than convinced. “Actually, I should have done it when Minhyuk first showed up. I should've just gone at it with him and get this mess over with. I could've avoided this whole – this whole –”

“This whole hole in your soul,” supplied Gunhee with a smirk.

“I shall suffer no rhymes, either,” warned Kihyun.

“Sheesh. You're snappish today.”

“Of course I am snappish. A man confesses to me and then he ghosts me because he might be dying from the flu.”

“Listen, let's look at it logically,” entreated Yoongi. “If he's not here, but they didn't send another incubus instead of him, he's probably still alive. They're still counting on him to do his job.”

Kihyun opened his mouth to speak. He couldn't. He tried again. He cleared his throat.

“But he's hurting.”

The guys flailed in their seats.

“When _I_ was sick, all you did was give me a goofy get well card with a fucking fox on it that said _Get well soon, for fox sake_ ,” Gunhee reminded him. “I'm supposed to be your friend, but when you saw me suffer, you started hyena-laughing!”

“I also brought you broth,” said Kihyun defensively. It offended him that his culinary skills were so forgettable. “And I do _not_ laugh like a hyena.”

“Hyung,” interrupted Jooheon, “while Hoseok's gone, I think you should take this opportunity and cleanse your flat. Scatter some salt and sage around, or whatever it is you did to chase away the others. Do that aura thing again.”

Shifting, Kihyun muttered: “Yeah. Yeah, I might.”

“Not might. Do it. He – Hoseok isn't here to thwart you this time. His powers can't stop you.”

“But if I prevent him from coming back, I will never know if he got well in the end.”

“Is that more important than living your life in peace?”

“What about his life, though? I'm not the only person on this planet. I'm not the only one who matters. He's alive too, you know. He has a heartbeat. I could feel it.”

Jooheon almost slid off his chair.

“How would you know that! You said you guys don't touch!”

“It was over gloves – he was being a baby and didn't want to undress – no, not like that!” Kihyun raised his voice when he saw their horrified (and in Gunhee's case, slightly delighted) faces. “I had my gloves on, alright? And he was – he was being fussy. He needed a hot shower, but he wasn't moving, so –”

“So you took his clothes off,” finished Gunhee happily.

“I swear it wasn't what it sounds like.”

“It sounds like you better pray that all you've caught is that stupid cold,” said Jooheon darkly.

“I didn't catch feelings, if that's what you mean.” Kihyun flushed. It was suddenly embarrassing to talk about it. “I would know it.”

“How can you be so sure when you claim that you don't know what it feels like?” mused Yoongi.

Once more, Kihyun's mouth opened and closed like a pearl mussel. Except there was no pearl of wisdom he could rebuff Yoongi with.

He just looked like a gaping fool.

A fool who reached for the wine after all.

He was _so_ never going to stream any of his friends' tracks again.

 

Hoseok was missing on the second and third night as well.

Kihyun tried to stay up late and wait in case his half human friend materialized in the second-hand chair after all, but it was pointless. It was harder to stay awake when he was alone. There was no one to ask quaint questions about the human world and peek at his study materials and hog his phone to gaze at Hyewon's paintings. There was no one to pester Kihyun enough so he could keep up with his new schedule.

He started falling asleep early the way he used to.

By the third night, Kihyun had gotten so tense that he woke up paralyzed. There were no figures in his flat. Only shadows. Weighed down to the marrow, he twitched his fingers until the wave of weighty fear subsided and ebbed. When he breathed in, it was like breathing in water.

The fourth night was Saturday. Dressed warmly, Kihyun headed to the night market. He had his hands crammed in his pockets. It was dark and clear and his breath came out in flower-quivering gusts.

The night market stood spread by a river bank.

Seokjin's stand glittered with the usual jewels and fishy amulets and charms. Small sachets gave off various scents of herbs that lingered in the air, coating Kihyun's tongue as he sucked in a deep breath. The man calling to the customers had a temper, and it showed when people ignored his display and walked past without care. He haggled like an old man would.

For a moment, Kihyun watched him, sensing a sharp breeze fanning from the river bore into his back. He wondered how a quiet type like Yoongi dealt with a boyfriend like this.

Kihyun walked up to him.

Since Seokjin was too preoccupied with cussing out frugal customers, he didn't notice Kihyun straight away. He spotted the younger man mid-rant. With one last spiteful “Aish!” in the direction of a young couple who didn't seem interested in his magical objects _or_ his tirade, Seokjin turned to him.

“You again.”

“Well, hello to you, too.”

“Look who's suddenly cordial. Wasn't it you who told me I should shove my prayer beads up my ass because they weren't worth shit?”

“To be completely fair, I told you you can shove them up Yoongi's ass.”

“Why are you here? I thought you got rid of that horny problem of yours.”

Right as he said it, Seokjin started to laugh at his own wit.

Kihyun's expression turned sour. “And here I thought we could skip that joke for once.”

“Never,” said Seokjin, the word as ominous as an oath.

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes – because it was never wise to roll eyes at one Kim Seokjin – Kihyun leaned on the counter.

“I might be kind of sort of potentially considering bringing Hoseok back,” said Kihyun casually.

“What the fuckaroo.”

“Look, I don't need your judgement,” he stated with pretended calmness. “All I need is some Himalayan salt or dried flowers fermented in Buddha's sweat or whatever is it I need to evoke him. It's been four days since he disappeared.”

“Let me rephrase it. What in the oblivion!”

“Can you stop being dramatic?”

“I thought you wanted him gone,” Seokjin pointed out. He grinned. “Or is it not the case anymore? Do you perhaps have another horny problem? Ahaha!”

“I'm not horny, you oaf. And I didn't catch feelings either, if that's what Yoongi told you.”

“Oh my god, you caught feelings!”

“I just told you I didn't!”

“That's exactly what someone who caught feelings would say,” proclaimed Seokjin in his best but-that's-none-of-my-business tone.

It had Kihyun scowling. “You will also catch something. These hands.”

Seokjin cackled.

“Those tiny hamster hands? You could fist me with them and it wouldn't even tickle.”

“I might just try.”

Batting his eyelashes, Seokjin rested his elbows on the counter to bring himself to Kihyun's level.

“Let's do it. I fist Yoongi, you fist me,” he winked.

“I am here as a customer. I will report you for sexual harassment.”

“Look at him chase after lost demons, but he won't give his friend a hand.” At that, Seokjin squeak-laughed again.

And here Kihyun thought that Gunhee's puns were mediocre.

“Are you quite finished?” uttered Kihyun. “Should I just go to another vendor? Spend my coin there?”

“Like you ever have any cash to spend,” scoffed Seokjin.

“I do tonight.” He would just have to go without meat for a week or two. “So what can you sell me?”

“An ouija board?”

“No. I don't fuck with those.”

“You don't precisely fuck with anything or anyone.”

“And I intend to keep it that way,” he deadpanned. “Don't you have something more... positive?”

“I mean, if it's done carefully, you should be able to call spirits with prayers. You just have to burn some herbs while you're evoking them. The thing is, I'm not sure it will work on incubi.”

“Well. I guess I'll have to try.”

“Wait.” Seokjin grew serious. He straightened up so he was only leaning on one elbow. “You're for real? You're actually going to conjure him?”

“Yeah,” said Kihyun weakly.

“What if it makes him free to roam the world? As in, even during the day?”

“I'll call him at night.”

“But what if he somehow gets access to you? You told me it's already bad because he can use your flat. What if he can use your mind after this? Your soul?”

“Better than my body,” replied Kihyun.

“I don't know about that,” said Seokjin dubiously. He stared Kihyun down. “Are you _sure_ about this? I won't have Yoongi giving me silent treatment if it fucks you up.”

“Look, I'm only fucked up because I don't know what's happening to him.”

With that, Kihyun resolutely laid his wallet down beside all those coin-shaped and crescent-shaped pendants, good luck charms, and jars of spice. He raised his eyebrows at Seokjin in a silent challenge.

Giving him one last look, Seokjin turned around to lightly squeeze a bunch of dried up flowers which hung behind him from the ceiling of the stand. The brown, withered blossoms and leaves rustled. Kihyun watched him graze each and every single small bouquet with meditative slowness. It looked like he could assess the power of the herbs with a mere touch. In the end, he took down a bundle of lavender and sweetgrass and a sachet full of cedar bark. He added an abalone shell so Kihyun had something to carry out the ritual in. Its oily, dark rainbow surface glistened.

Kihyun glanced down at the simple purchase.

“That's it?”

“Yes. I can't promise it will work on him, though.”

Well. The least he could do was try.

 

The ritual didn't evoke Hoseok.

It evoked Changkyun.

Once the herbs shrivelled and turned to ashes and the flames died down, the small but thick smoke which came from them blackening the inside of the abalone shell, Changkyun's face appeared in front of Kihyun. He was nothing but two white eyes at first. Then, in a bluish-black shade, two bent horns poked upwards from his forehead. They gleamed. It would've scared Kihyun shitless if he wasn't peering into the dark on purpose, eager to see someone, anyone, even Satan herself.

A second later, Changkyun emerged from the blackness completely. He wore quite a lot in comparison to the rest of his incubi friends. His clothes had the colour of tar.

“Why are you sitting here like it's the end of the world?” asked Changkyun, his well-deep voice filling the room to the farthest corner. It was calming, in a way. The boy coughed when the smell of smouldering cinders reached his nostrils. “Fuck, what _is_ this? Why did you conjure me?”

“Is Hoseok alive?”

His own question washed over him cold and gritty like a salty sea wave.

“Sadly, yes,” responded Changkyun. Grimacing, he pushed the shell away. “Put the lights on, hyung. You look like a ghost. It's scary.”

Kihyun had the grace not to be offended, even if the remark came from an incubus; a particularly creepy incubus whose eyes always had a sleepy shape, but whose pupils shifted around like quicksilver. He supposed he had to be haggard, seeing his sleeping schedule was practically non-existent at this point. That, and the fact that Changkyun was somewhat his favourite, kept Kihyun in check. He got up and turned the ceiling light on.

A low shine dispersed all over the studio.

“Better,” hummed Changkyun.

“Where's Hoseok?”

“Sick. In his bedroom. Whining so hard you'd think he's on his deathbed,” said Changkyun. When he saw Kihyun's bloodshot eyes, he added: “But he's not really. It's just his human side acting up.”

“Is it worse for him – to go down with human illnesses?”

“It's slower,” said Changkyun vaguely. “The mama's boy has no immune system at all because he doesn't normally go outside, so he gets sick easily. It takes ages for him to get well.”

“You mean literal ages?” Kihyun blanched.

“No. Not literal. Not even human ages. But, like, a week or two.”

“Oh.” If silliness had a corporeal shape, it would take upon the shape of a certain Yoo Kihyun. He went white. “So he's... he's actually alright.”

“Yeah. It's us who suffer the most,” grumbled Changkyun. He leaned backwards on his palms, his round shoulders edging up. “He's all, _Kkukkungie, I'm gonna throw up. Kkukkungie, I want broccoli soup. Kkukkungie, where are my chains? I want to look cute._ ”

If Kihyun had hesitated to believe the boy before, now he didn't.

His face fell. It was heavy with exhaustion and, as Changkyun dissected him with a long, lingering gaze, mortification.

“I see,” said Kihyun, not knowing what else to say.

“Did you get all this stuff to check on the doofus?”

“No. I already had the lighter,” uttered Kihyun.

The lighter belonged to Yoongi, actually, but the kid didn't have to know.

“You didn't have to freak out. He's fine. But he won't come to you until he's pretty again.” Changkyun snickered. “ _I can't let Kihyunnie see me like this_!”

It was obvious Changkyun had spent quite a bit of time with Hoseok, whether it was in the last few days or generally. He could imitate the slightly hurt lilt with which the older man sometimes spoke perfectly.

“It shouldn't matter what he looks like. I've already seen him snotty and feverish. I've seen his butthole, for fuck's sake.”

A flush crept up his neck.

It was one thing to see Hoseok prance around naked and to accept the incubus's antics when they were alone, but somehow it never sounded so casual when Kihyun talked about the stuff they'd done and shared in front of someone else.

But it was only with his friends that Kihyun was overwhelmed with shame. With Hoseok, it was never awkward. Not too awkward, anyway. Only a little bit. Not the way people described it when someone had a crush – or something.

“Nice,” was all Changkyun said, unperturbed.

“But – not in that way,” added Kihyun although it was a little late.

“Still. It's a nice butthole.”

And ballsack, too.

Kihyun winced.

Changkyun's stare sharpened.

“We thought you would exorcise him within a week like you had done it to the rest of us,” he said out of the blue. “We were all worried for him when his name got chosen. And here we are. Three months later.”

Sheepishly, Kihyun put his arms up.

“Don't take it personally,” he offered.

“Oh, I'm not. It's just how it is. Sometimes it's right and sometimes it's not. It's quite enough that you were nice to me. You didn't always say nice things, but every time we met, you were _thinking_ nice things. I liked that.”

“How would you know what I was thinking?” he asked suspiciously.

“I never told you? I can kind of read minds. It's easier to figure out what the victim wants.” With his best babyish expression, Changkyun cooed at him. “I know you were thinking about ballsacks just now.”

“Again – not in the way you think,” Kihyun quickly defended. Yeah. The mortification would never end.

He folded himself on the ground when he realized what this could mean. If he was right in his suspicion, Hoseok might know. Know everything. He might know the good and the bad. The confusing. He would have known before Kihyun had.

Tremulously, Kihyun asked: “Can every incubus read minds?”

“Nope. Only some of us.” Changkyun smiled when he read Kihyun's thoughts yet again. “My husband can do it, for example. He's so good at it that he can even turn it off when he wants to. I'm not that good yet. Sometimes all I hear is this big painful jumble.” He tapped his temple. “But I'm getting better. Hyunwoo is teaching me.”

“Hyunwoo the Head Incubus?” echoed Kihyun.

“That's him.” Crossing his ankles, Changkyun sighed. “We've barely seen each other since Hoseok got sick. I can't believe I have to neglect my husband because of one stupid cold. It's not even my cold.” He gave another exaggerated sigh. “Where is he? I miss him.”

He turned to stare into the distance forlornly.

There was a crack. And smoke. And it did not rise from the abalone shell, which at this point stood cooled down and full of soot between Kihyun and Changkyun. A black cloud thickened behind Changkyun and then it dissipated like a swarm of lightless fireflies, paling until it revealed a silhouette.

It was a man. A demon in its truest form. Looming above them, he was bigger and broader than Kihyun and Changkyun combined. His translucent, veiny wings slowly folded on his back as a lost expression settled over his features. It didn't make him any smaller when the wings hid behind him completely. Two ribbed, curled horns adorned his head. He reminded Kihyun of wild game as well as its hunter. His skin was tan, so tan that his pale tattoos looked like scars at first.

He had a tail, too.

Kihyun was glad he was sitting down.

“Did you call for me, dear?” asked the man. His voice was warm, if a bit puzzled.

“Baby!” exclaimed Changkyun, though he didn't sound too surprised to hear his husband materialize behind him. He let his head hung backwards so he could peer at the majestic, marble-like beauty this man was upside-down. “I just missed you, is all.”

And here Kihyun thought that Hoseok was strong.

Changkyun caught that thought and gave Kihyun a small grin. Blindly, he reached behind his back to tug Hyunwoo down by the wrist. It was more his insistence than his physical strength that brought Hyunwoo down to kneel beside him.

“I thought you asked for a vacation to nurse Hoseok,” the man remarked. He laid his hands on his thighs. He kneeled the way proper noblemen of old times kneeled. The way straight-backed warriors kneeled in faded watercolour paintings.

“Yeah, but something came up. Kihyun kind of tried to conjure Hoseok, but the vain whiner sent me instead.”

“Kihyun? Hoseok's Kihyun?” Still slightly lost, Hyunwoo let his gaze land on Kihyun's much smaller frame. “Yoo Kihyun?”

“Nice to meet you,” he managed.

“Likewise.”

“See, I'm not the clingiest spirit on earth anymore,” said Changkyun. Suddenly, his hand was all over Hyunwoo's arm, kneading the meaty muscles there. “In the underworld, maybe, but here? It's hyung.”

“I wasn't being clingy,” clipped Kihyun, but then all three of them kind of looked at the heap of ritual objects strewn all over the floor. The lighter. The fat layer of cinders. The loosened bunch of lavender and sweetgrass that still permeated the studio with a soft scent. “Okay – I may have been a little worried. It's completely reasonable to be worried when your friend vanishes after getting sick, just so you know. I thought it was serious.”

“It's cute how silly you feel.” Changkyun smiled an impish smile.

“Stop reading my mind!”

“It's fun to read. There's so much going on. It's like diving deeper and deeper into the unexplored part of the ocean.”

“Well, in that case explain to me what I feel,” Kihyun shot back before he could think it through.

“I can't,” said Changkyun, which was fortunate, or perhaps it wasn't. “I can't read feelings. And you don't know what you feel. Does he, baby?”

“He doesn't,” agreed Hyunwoo. His strong eyebrows furrowed. “But it's peculiar. His name is on the list –”

“The fucking list,” whispered Kihyun, crouching as he did.

“– and it's no longer fading,” finished Hyunwoo.

“Excuse me, could you repeat that?” Kihyun didn't just heard that. He didn't. He would throw his non-existent fists if it was true. “My name was fading? As in, it was about to be erased from the list? I could've been free?”

“Not exactly. When I sent Minhyuk after you, the ink became lighter. But it renewed on its own once Minhyuk ditched the job. The same thing happened with Changkyun and Hyungwon. The ink should actually become darker the closer a mortal is to consenting. I have yet to see it fade before.” Hyunwoo glanced at Changkyun and back at Kihyun. “With Hoseok, it stayed the same.”

Rummaging through the very tight, very sporadic pockets of his leathers pants, Hyunwoo pulled out a pearl. It was black. He put it into his palm.

There was no crack this time. No smoke. Only a rustle as the pearl broke. A silk scroll appeared in Hyunwoo's hand in its stead.

He unrolled the scroll. He had to go back several metres to find what he was looking for. Trying not to peek but failing, Kihyun noticed that there were hundreds of names written down in watered-down ink, the majority of which had already seeped into the silk fully black and was now crossed out.

Kihyun's name was one of them.

It was neither black, nor light.

“What does it mean?” he said quietly. “If it's not changing at all, it can't be right. For you, or for me.”

“What it means is that Hoseok – well, if he's not the right one for you, he's the rightest so far.” Changkyun nodded, evaluating his own explanation. “There might be someone else who fits with you better, if you want to keep trying.”

“I don't want to keep trying. I'm asexual.”

“We don't mean to invalidate your feelings,” said Hyunwoo calmly. “The list is never wrong, that's all I know. Maybe you're not wrong, either. You could have some dormant needs and never discover them because you didn't meet the person you seek. You could have no dormant needs at all. It's an intricate thing, to know oneself. It's confusing even when it isn't.”

“But I'm not confused.” Kihyun tried to stay firm. “I know what I don't want.”

“And do you know what you _do_ want?”

Of course he knew. Kihyun was about to tell them.

Except his words ran dry.

“There are people who experience more and people who experience less. People who love more and people who love less,” continued Hyunwoo when Kihyun had come up empty.

“It's not about love. It's about fucking,” interjected Kihyun. “I don't care for it.”

“And there's nothing wrong about that. None of us can get to you unless you give us your full consent. If you never do, who knows? Your name may fade completely one day.”

One day. But until then? And after that?

“What if it never fades?”

“There's nothing we can do. We listen to the list, not the other way around.”

“Does it mean that Hoseok can stay indefinitely? If my name stays, he stays?”

When he glanced up, Changkyun had somehow smuggled his squat body into Hyunwoo's lap. He beamed there even though he was neither laughing nor smiling at the moment. Kihyun immediately glanced back down. Suddenly, he was an intruder in his own home.

“It's possible,” said Hyunwoo. “Again, unless you'd rather find the right incubus.”

“What if he's not the right incubus – but the right person?” blurted Kihyun.

The two incubi exchanged a look. Although Kihyun's eyes remained downcast, he could sense it when their attention turned back to him. It seared through him.

“Could that be it?” asked Changkyun.

“It would explain some things,” assented his husband.

“But what will happen if Hoseok decides to be with him and they get all comfy with each other and they bang in the end? You'd have to call him back. We don't get to sleep with one person twice.”

“That is true – unless the mortal consents to marriage.”

“Yeah, but that's what we're kinda trying to prevent with this whole one-fuck-only rule, isn't it. Mésalliances create outcasts like Hoseok.”

“Excuse me.” Prickling up, Kihyun found his bravado again. “First of all, I am in no way inferior to you, thank you very much, so I wouldn't call me marrying Hoseok a mésalliance. And second of all, there's no need to be concerned about any potential _half-born_ spawn since we're both men.”

Changkyun gave a light snort.

“So when's the wedding?”

“That's not what I meant,” he snapped.

Changkyun started to whistle. Mendelssohn's march.

Kihyun glared.

“Don't glare at my husband,” said Hyunwoo gently.

Kihyun stopped glaring.

He drew a breath to compose himself.

“Look,” he uttered at last, “this is all bollocks. I don't even know if I _like_ like him. I can't be tied to him forever just to find out. I can't have him be tied to me when I can't give him what incubi need. I can't marry someone who won't grow old with me.”

Once he said it, it became realer.

He was in a headlock. Whether he wanted this or not, there was no way out. No good way.

“We can't help you with that,” said Hyunwoo, his face serious.

Yeah.

Kihyun knew that.

That was the only thing he knew all too well anymore.

 

It had taken two full weeks for Hoseok to return. December was almost over.

Kihyun closed the door behind him and groped for the switch as he kicked off his shoes. It clicked. The room lighted up.

There was an incubus in his bed.

“Hello, lover,” said Hoseok shyly. He was covered up to the chin.

“You better not be naked there,” soured Kihyun. “I changed the sheets the day before yesterday.”

“Sheesh. What a warm welcome.”

Unzipping his parka, Kihyun crossed the tiny space and marched towards the bed, his socks leaving damp prints all over the parquet floor because the snow had soaked his booths through and through. He hopped down next to Hoseok and landed on his tummy.

Hoseok got all doe-eyed at the sudden closeness. He was pale, but it was the healthy kind of pale. His eyebrows sloped upwards gently, almost in a question that was left unsaid.

“I'm just checking if you're still snotty and blotchy,” said Kihyun when he noticed the uncertainty with which Hoseok looked back at him.

“I was neither of that.” His ears went red.

“Oh? Is that why you refused to show your face here for full two weeks?”

“You counted?”

“It was long two weeks.”

Softening, Hoseok craned his neck. He rolled onto his side, one arm thrown over the blanket. The fabric slipped lower. Perhaps he wasn't naked under there, but he was definitely shirtless. Again. With all those cold cold chains grazing his skin and hardening his nipples. Kihyun's gaze darkened.

“Hoseok, you only just recovered. I won't have you catching another flu. Go put on a sweater.”

“I know, I know. I have to take care of myself. That's why I'm all wrapped up.” Not moving, he smiled. “Like a Christmas present.”

“It's a little late for that,” quipped Kihyun.

“You could still unwrap me,” said Hoseok.

“That would kind of defeat the purpose, wouldn't it? We're trying to keep you warm.”

He expected Hoseok to sulk at that, but he didn't. He glowed.

“I want to be even warmer.”

Ah, so here it was, thought Kihyun.

“Are you going to beg for cuddles again?” he squinted suspiciously.

“I was delirious then! You can't hold it against me,” he sniffed. “I know I'm not getting any. But do you know what I missed?”

“Was it me?”

“Please. You missed me more,” murmured Hoseok cheekily. “You even tried to evoke me.”

“Let's not talk about that.” Kihyun closed his eyes for a while. “It wasn't my brightest moment.”

“But it was your sweetest for sure.”

“Look, I legitimately thought that I killed you. Cut me some slack.”

There was a chuckle.

“I like it that you would miss me if I was gone.”

“I don't like it at all.”

“I like it loads,” simpered Hoseok. “We're even now. Merong.”

Kihyun's lids fluttered open. His features grew dangerously pointed.

“Did you just stick out your tongue at me?”

“I sure did.” Hoseok simpered some more. “Gosh, I really missed this, though. Your tiny little glares.”

“Is that so? Is _that_ what you missed?”

“Amongst other things.”

“Like what?”

“Like walking in on you when you shower. Good times,” he sighed, amused by Kihyun's grimace. “And your playlists. And your rants.”

“And my cooking, I hope.”

Hoseok hummed. “I missed that, too. So, so much.”

“Are sinners that bad at cooking?” inquired Kihyun as he put his chin in his palm.

“They're not bad. But they're not you and I can't help them prepare the stuff, so it's not that nice.”

“You hardly ever even help me. You just munch.”

“I'll help you tonight,” he promised gravely. “If you cook for me.”

“Do you want some coffee too?”

“Yes, please,” he whispered.

Soon, the studio smelled not only of wilted juniper branches which Kihyun festively kept in a vase on the counter, but also of freshly ground coffee beans, seafood soup, and fried rice. Hoseok actually pitched in today and dutifully washed and chopped and cleaned, and he danced out of Kihyun's way so as not to brush against him by accident. But first, he put on the thickest and fuzziest sweater Kihyun owned. It was a baby blue turtleneck.

They listened to Gunhee's song on repeat. Hoseok seemed to like it. He remembered it.

“I thought it was you singing to me,” he threw in – nonchalantly, but not really.

“I can't rap.” Hands safely tucked in a pair of oven mitts, Kihyun handed Hoseok a plate. The serving was so generous that Kihyun almost got a cramp in his wrist as he held the plate up. They both leaned on the counter and dug in. “It's no rapping and no sapping for you.”

“But it's all of you for me.” Hoseok tried not to smile too widely. He had to hang his head low to hide how hard he failed.

“I don't know about _all_ of me,” said Kihyun.

“All I need, then.”

Kihyun hesitated.

“But – won't you waste away? Don't incubi die without human energy?”

“If I was pure-blood, I would. But even then, it would take years. I can live off food and... and smaller things.”

“Smaller things?”

“Yup. But as I said. We have years to figure that out.”

“Do you want to stay, though? Do you really want to?” asked Kihyun. He shifted so it was his hip leaning on the counter instead of his lower back.

Wordlessly, Hoseok nodded.

“It might end up terribly, Hoseok. Do you realize that?”

“Yes.”

“I might never –”

“I know.”

“Or not fully –”

“I know,” he repeated, softer.

“And even if... even if we do everything your parents did, even if we get there, we'll end up the same. Screw one hundred years together. Screw fifty. I could die when I'm thirty or forty. People get sick. We get into freak accidents. We get murdered.”

“You don't have to remind me that,” said Hoseok. “I may be a little sheltered, but I know all of this. I've seen it.”

“And you still want to go through with this?”

“It's better than nothing.”

“It's going to hurt the living fuck out of us,” said Kihyun.

As he let his chopsticks halt in the air, Hoseok glimpsed up.

“Even you?”

“I told you I care. I can't _not_ care when we spend every night together.” At this point, Kihyun just grimaced at himself. “Okay, not like _that_.”

It made Hoseok cackle.

“Soft.”

Kihyun sighed.

 

“About the demisexual thing,” Kihyun threw in, browsing through packs of tofu. “How does that work?”

Jooheon let out a whine.

“Hyung! You told me you were keeping it platonic with the guy!”

“Which I am,” he assured him. “I was just wondering.”

“Is he pushing it?” asked Gain.

“No, actually. I thought it might get worse once I agree that he can stay, but it's become... really peaceful.”

“Has it?” asked Jooheon, his omnipresent pout rendering him cuter despite the bruise-like circles under his eyes. He'd been busy recording his mixtape, running on one hour of sleep per day again.

“Yeah. All we do is chat and take small walks by the river and to the fish market,” said Kihyun. He picked up a pack of seasoned tofu and put it into the shopping basket. “He helps me cram and sometimes he sings to me when I'm too tired to stay up. That's it.”

“But you're thinking of inviting him.”

“That's the thing. I don't. Not until I figure this out. I have to know what I am – who I am. I won't risk this unless I'm sure, even for his sake.”

“Methinks you're trying to dissect something that doesn't need to be dissected at all,” said Gain. “You spend so much time thinking that you forget to feel.”

“What if I figure out that I feel nothing?”

“Even if your dick feels nothing, you're already in too deep,” sulked Jooheon. “I knew it was gonna be like this. I knew it the moment you told me you had let him sleep beside you.”

“I'm not here to be profound with you, kids, but you're both freaking out too much. You're both imagining the worst. You,” she stabbed one long finger at Jooheon, “need to unclench. You,” she pointed at Kihyun, “stop worrying about unclenching. Nobody is forcing you. Especially not Hoseok, if what you're saying is true. Be grateful for the time you can spend with him. Make it nice for him, too. That's all you have to care about.”

“You can't tell him to just roll with it,” protested Jooheon.

“I can, and I sure just did,” said Gain icily.

The guys clammed up, sporting a hangdog look all the way to the frozen food aisle.

Kihyun guessed he could try and listen to Gain for a change. Make it nice for Hoseok.

That sounded easy enough.

He reckoned he could start with an apology.

How, though.

 

He had rephrased the apology in his mind about two dozen times throughout the day. He'd thought about it at work, in class, and now, during the walk home.

Hoseok stepped over puddles at his side. He had learned to navigate through the neighbourhood and become able to find Kihyun in the blink of an eye. Because of that, he'd picked up a habit of waiting for Kihyun at the university campus, cosy in a scarf and a down jacket. He had to wear beanies or knitted caps to conceal his horns, but they usually made him all the more snuggly, and Kihyun could play with his wet, tousled fringe when they got home.

Which was exactly what he did when they plopped down on the bed. He wore see-through gloves, the disposable food prep kind.

It was early, but the sun was already down. The sky had turned the deepest shade of blue.

Stroking Hoseok's hair, Kihyun decided to cross the Rubicon.

“There's this thing,” he began, hesitating despite his initial decisiveness. What he had on his mind wasn't an easy thing to say out loud. Obviously, he hated being wrong. He hated the idea of Hoseok being wronged a little more, though. He inhaled. “It's been bothering me and it's going to bother me until I tell you I'm sorry. Can you listen to me for a minute?”

“Okay?” said Hoseok uncertainly.

“Okay.” Kihyun cleared his throat. “I think that I was a bit douchey to you before. _Quite_ a bit douchey. I invalidated a lot of what you said and did because I didn't trust you. Even when you tried to open up about family stuff, I kept brushing you aside. Like a dick.”

He cringed at himself. Eloquent.

“It's fine. For all you knew, I was only here to fuck,” said Hoseok. “And I was, initially. It's my job. You couldn't have known that I would...” he didn't finish straight away. He didn't blush, but he grew bashful under Kihyun's gaze. “That I would fall for you.”

“But that doesn't make it right. I treated you like an annoying pet. I should've at least treated you like an annoying person.”

“It had its upside. You were caring, like an owner,” joked Hoseok. “I liked it.”

“What is it that I'm hearing? Do you like being treated like a pet?”

“No,” he chuckled. “I like that you were nice to me even thought you looked like a sour butthole most of the time.”

“A sour butthole,” clipped Kihyun.

“Yep. You have this one super pursed expression –”

Giggling, Hoseok caught both pillows Kihyun threw at him. He put them under his chin.

For a moment, all they did was stare at each other.

Kihyun spoke up first, gentled by how squished up Hoseok looked, lying there on the pile of pillows.

“I mean it. I'm sorry about it.”

“It's alright. I think I did the same thing to you. I never met anyone like you, so I was... Sometimes I treated you the way people treat animals at the zoo, did you notice? I was so curious about you.” He paused to think. “It makes sense, in a way. When you meet someone new, you have to be curious and ask and explore before you understand them. It's normal not to know the right way how to approach strangers.”

“Yes, but –”

“No buts. We're different colours and different creeds, and different people have different needs.”

Kihyun gawked.

“Did you just quote Depeche Mode to me?”

Hoseok giggled again.

“This is Changkyun's influence,” declared Kihyun darkly. “I shall not have it.”

“C'mon. You like Depeche Mode.”

“Yes, but you quoted them to be fresh with me.” Leaning backwards to lie on his back, Kihyun gave a theatrically long sigh. “And I planned to invite you for a nice night out. Aren't I a fool?”

“A nice night out?” Hoseok perked up.

Kihyun could swear that his ears moved along with his mouth. Instinctively, he reached out to caress them.

“There is something I want to show you.”

“Another movie? Are you taking me to the cinema?” he gushed, and this time his ears definitely moved out of excitement.

“No. Guess again.”

“Is it something related to food?”

“Nope.”

Hoseok gasped. “It's the amusement park you talked about!”

“I haven't saved enough for that trip yet,” admitted Kihyun. He looked up to search in Hoseok's face. Luckily, the incubus didn't seem too put off. He simply gazed back, his skin aglow with pallid, bluish shimmers. “I'd like you take you to a museum.”

“A museum?”

“Yes. So you can see your father's work.”

He almost regretted suggesting it. The way Hoseok's features fell apart to assemble back, more tender than before, constricted his chest. His heart gave a start, as painful as a hiccup.

So he really had one.

“Seok?” he tried, startled at how tremulous he sounded.

“I wish I could peck you right now.”

Kihyun stared. Slowly, Hoseok locked their fingers. He brought Kihyun's hand up and kissed the bone at the side of his wrist. The glass-like folie that embalmed Kihyun's hand like second skin all the way up to the hem of his sleeve rustled underneath Hoseok's lips. It was warm.

“There,” he smiled.

“Oh,” murmured Kihyun.

At that, Hoseok grinned openly.

“Do I get a snack before we go?”

“There are some chips in the kitchen if you want. But you don't have to rush.” Unconsciously, he squeezed Hoseok's fingers to keep him where he was. “We have time. It's a night exhibition.”

Hoseok squeezed back.

“Does it mean we can spend the whole night there?”

“Well, not the whole night. They close after midnight, I think. But it's still plenty of time,” he entreated. “I would've taken you there sooner so you could finally see your father stuff, like, life-sized, with your own eyes. But they only throw these events every once in a while. Normally the museum closes too early.”

“Kihyun...”

“Also! I borrowed Yoongi's student card, so I will sneak you in with a discount.”

He was pretty pleased with himself.

“You planned to take me there? Even before you boyfriended me?”

“We're not boyfriends yet,” pointed out Kihyun.

“That so?”

“I'm pretty sure that's how it is.”

“No more hand pecks for you, then.”

“Meanie.”

Hoseok chuckled. “Do you think I'm easy just because I'm an incubus? Think again. You better put a ring on it if you want a kiss on it.”

“So... to get my hand kissed, we should exchange rings?”

“Yup,” he simpered.

“So, for a real kiss, I should get a lip ring first.”

“Don't be so literal,” chided Hoseok. “How am I supposed to get the idea of you with a lip piercing out of my head now?”

“It's you who came up with it,” said Kihyun with feigned innocence. “Hey. Does it mean that if I'm ever up for a blowjob, I'll have to buy cock rings?”

Hoseok choked on his spit.

“And whose influence is this?!”

“Gain's, I suppose. We had a riveting talk about clenching and unclenching today.”

Hoseok choked again.

“What business do you have talking about such stuff! Who are you and where is my sweet sweet virgin Kihyun?”

“Here. Still as virginal as ever.”

“Good.” Mouthing against his wrist, Hoseok murmured: “Let's keep you like that.”

Although he tried not to smile, Kihyun knew that his eyes had turned into the shape of fortune cookies.

So this was his life now. He sort of had a boyfriend, lived in a one-room flat where he stumbled all over himself and said boyfriend, and robbed museums of entry fees in his free time.

He wasn't complaining.

 

The Gansong Art Museum was a quiet place with light wooden floors, white walls and pillars, and low ceilings. Rays of artificial pure light aimed at individual exhibits, harsh and conical. The rooms appeared to Kihyun half dark, half white. He liked it. The exhibits in front of him either merged with the monochromatic scheme of the museum, or they clashed with it in the richest of colours. He saw precious pale china and pastel watercolours. He saw thickly patterned scrolls hung on the walls. He saw calligraphy in the blackest of blacks.

He saw Hoseok stare at Hyewon's collection with his mouth parted, not even in awe, but in disbelief that he was there at last; that he was allowed to see the fine brushwork and imprint his father's signature in his memory.

Kihyun was busy imprinting other things in his memory.

The parted mouth, for one.

The way Hoseok groped in the air to hold onto Kihyun. Sweaty in his warm gloves, Kihyun grasped him.

“It's funny,” whispered Hoseok. “The _Lust_ series has faded into light green and pink, but the _Lovers_ series is still all dark red and deep green.”

“Was that a metaphor? It seems to me that everyone is being way too profound today,” commented Kihyun, also in a whisper so as not to disturb other visitors.

“I don't know. If it's a metaphor, I didn't make it.”

In silence, Hoseok's gaze followed line after line left there by Hyewon's brush – the intricate labyrinth of ink which pieced together a palace scene. Two lovers touched each other behind a tall wall illuminated by the moon while another court lady stood guard nearby, watching the streets for any late walkers.

If it was possible, Hoseok grew even quieter when they arrived to a room which held the life-sized version of Hyewon's _Dance with Two Swords._ Respectfully, Kihyun kept quiet as well. It took him a while to realize it was less because of the beauty before him and more because he began to glance sideways. It was Hoseok's reverence which had him speechless and filled with the same kind of ache.

Hoseok was homesick.

He was homesick for a place and time he'd never been to, or at least not for so long as to remember it. He missed his father. He missed his mother's happiness.

And he would have to keep missing.

Kihyun could give him many firsts, but he would have to give him many lasts.

He drew a breath.

Shit. The carved-out sensation was back, deadening him from the inside out. But he still felt. He felt, and he would trade it for not feeling anything at all any day.

Hoseok turned towards him. The sound Kihyun had made must have beckoned him.

With lingering slowness, Hoseok reached up.

Kihyun closed his eyes. He was ready for that not-really-there touch to trace his face in the middle, from his widow's peak to the pointed curve of his chin.

Instead of that, Hoseok's calloused thumb caressed his cheekbone. His skin tingled where the warmth grazed it, spreading the way cracks branch out in a block of ice left underneath the blazing sun.

It warmed his belly.

Hoseok breathed out. “I'm... I'm touching you.”

“What?” he mumbled.

“I'm _touching_ you.”

Instinctively, Kihyun grasped Hoseok's hand to confirm what he was saying.

He flinched away, wide-eyed. He retreated as far as he could without startling the stray visitor here and there who ambled in the same room.

“Are you burning?!” hissed Kihyun.

“No.” Hoseok blinked. Tentatively, he outstretched his arm. He didn't approach Kihyun. “How...?”

“What do you mean, how!”

“How come I'm touching you?” asked Hoseok, awed.

“You're asking me?” Kihyun bit back at him.

“Who else!”

“Shh!”

People were starting to turn heads.

There wasn't anything worse that could be done at that point, so Kihyun clutched Hoseok's sleeve and hauled him away from the unwanted spotlight.

“Are you mad?” Kihyun accused when they found themselves in a nondescript bathroom. His eyebrows were knitted. “Do you know what would've happened if – if –”

“Yeah,” said Hoseok weakly.

“Yeah? _Yeah_? And you still did it?”

“It's just – you were so –” he struggled.

“We're in public!”

“I know – I wasn't thinking. But –”

“You sure as hell weren't thinking. You told me it was terrible the last time you got burned! You told me you screamed!”

Frantically, he kept tracing Hoseok up and down to assure that his skin wasn't flaking to ashes or that his muscles weren't convulsing in agony. There was no sign of pain, however; at least none he could decipher.

It didn't calm him down.

Even though Hoseok looked alright, it was beginning to burn Kihyun.

His whole fucking throat was on fire.

“I don't know why I did it,” defended Hoseok. “It just – it seemed right.”

“Right? It's not right at all. Everyone would have heard and seen you if you had just randomly started to roar out there. Do you know what that means? Everyone would have seen who you are. Don't you get what kind of uproar it would've caused? They could've arrested you,” he said, acute. “They could've taken you away.”

“I always vanish with the sun anyhow,” offered Hoseok faintly.

“And me? What about me?”

“I – shit – I didn't mean to cross any boundaries, Kihyun, I promise, I _promise_. I wasn't trying to do anything without your consent, I –”

“It's not about boundaries!”

Hoseok halted. “What then?”

“I didn't take you here so you'd be in pain,” he rasped. All that whisper-shouting was getting to him. “This was supposed to be – nice.”

“I'm not in pain,” said Hoseok.

“But you could've been.” Finally, Kihyun stopped still. The touch hadn't harmed Hoseok. What the fuck. “This doesn't make sense.”

Only when their voices ceased to carry around the bathroom in a hollow echo, Kihyun noticed that one of the taps was leaking. Hoseok wasn't bothered by it, and it bothered Kihyun that he wasn't bothered. So he glared. The longer they stared at each other without any way out, the more the steady trickle of water grated on Kihyun's nerves.

And then.

“Kihyun, have you consented?”

“The fuck? I haven't. You should know it the best. I haven't touched you yet.”

“But have you _consented_?” pressed Hoseok.

“I just told you –”

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Ki.”

“Don't talk to me.”

“It's nothing to blush about,” he entreated.

“I'm not blushing. I'm sick.”

“Ki, can I try it? Can I try it again? Just so we are sure?”

“I'm sure. I don't want your meaty paws anywhere near me.”

“One finger.”

“I'll give you a finger.”

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Now who's blushing.”

“Pretty sure it's both of us,” said Hoseok, beaming but shy.

This was terrible.

“I've never even brushed you,” scowled Kihyun. “This is bullshit.”

“Well, maybe you didn't have to. Maybe your body just knows.”

His mind raced.

“Seok, when I slept next to you,” he began, his features turning thunderous.

Hoseok straightened up to his full height. Which wasn't all that tall.

“What? Do you think I molested you in your sleep or something?”

“No. Obviously, you couldn't have done that. You would've burned. But you could've let me toss and turn and touch you by accident,” argued Kihyun.

“So this is what my boyfriend takes me for.”

“He takes you for a little sneak who surprise-grinds on his dick in the dead of the night.”

“That was one time!”

“Yeah, but how do I know you didn't try anything else besides that back then – before you caught feelings?”

Hoseok mumbled.

“What was that?”

“I caught them pretty early on.”

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Kihyun, you're all red again.”

“Well, no shit!”

“Is it because you're thinking about grinding, or because I lo –”

“Neither, let's go.” Kihyun dashed out of the door.

Why did these things always had to happen to him in public restrooms?

 


	4. No More Sunrise

Kihyun had managed to avoid the topic for a full week.

The thing about Kihyun was, he had a natural ability to run away from the awkward and sexual; and when there was nowhere left to run, he could be certain that his silver tongue would always come to rescue and save him from talks he didn't wish to have. Although he was swarming with thoughts, most of which were cryptic and embarrassing in the least, he was able to converse casually – even with Hoseok.

There was nothing to worry about, truly. Kihyun was good at evading and escaping and overall shifting the conversation in the direction he wanted it to flow.

None of that was a factor in that week-long peace treaty, though. Kihyun hadn't really had a reason to try to gain space, and still didn't. Hoseok had given it to him unasked.

They went about their life as usual.

Only Kihyun found the sudden change of pace disquieting.

He was waiting out the storm. Except there was no storm to wait out.

It was a little infuriating.

“About the consent thing,” said Kihyun offhandedly while they sipped coffee together in a nonstop fast food restaurant.

Hoseok nearly swallowed the whole cup.

“Yes?” he croaked.

“Do you think you're allowed to touch me because we're kinda dating now?”

“I wouldn't say we're _kinda_ dating. Last time I checked, we've _kinda_ agreed to stay together forever.”

“My forever,” Kihyun reminded him.

“It's the only forever I care about.”

Kihyun _kinda_ went soft after that.

“But do you think that's it? That we're dating?”

“Not really, I don't think so. There are people who date and don't touch.”

“In that case I'm at my wits' end.”

“You don't have to get stressed about it,” entreated Hoseok in a warmer tone. “I'm not going to grope you just because I can.”

“Thanks?”

“Also, you shouldn't grope me either,” he said importantly. “I'm enjoying this consent thing quite a bit.”

“You are?”

“You bet. You're not all over me when I'm not in the mood. It's nice.”

“We should lay out some rules, though,” remarked Kihyun after a brief consideration.

“Why? I told you I'm okay with waiting for you. I meant it.” Hoseok put the cup to his mouth only to frown and put it back down. “Or do you think I'm still trying to trick you so you would let your guard down?”

“It's not about tricking me. It's so we don't dance around each other anymore like we've been doing it for the past week. It's been... I don't even know.”

“I figured you needed some time,” said Hoseok. From the way he leaned forward to peer at Kihyun, it was clear he was a little taken aback. “Was I wrong?”

Unthinking, Kihyun mimicked the motion.

“No. No, you did the right thing. It's just that I wasn't ready to lose what we've gained.”

Hoseok gasped, but it was hardly an awed sound. It was amused.

“You mean you missed my hand kisses?”

“Not just that.”

Hoseok gasped for real.

“Look, before you get carried away,” Kihyun hurried to say, “I'm talking hand-holding and, like, platonic stuff.”

“And I almost got a boner thinking about all those pecks I was going to get,” Hoseok teased him.

“I could go with that.”

Laughing, Hoseok started to unwrap his complimentary biscuit. He took a bite.

“Sorry, I must've heard wrong,” he said as he munched. “I could've sworn you just said that you were going to give me pecks.”

“I sort of said that, yeah.”

Hoseok dropped the biscuit.

“Pecks!”

“Nothing more,” warned Kihyun.

And perhaps a little tongue.

But he couldn't say that aloud. Hoseok would overthrow the whole table.

A little lighter, Kihyun leaned back comfortably, or as comfortably as the plastic chair he was perched on allowed him to. He gave a hum and took a satisfying swig of his drink. It was strange. Once he'd broached the topic and laid it all out in the open, the shame was gone.

“So I guess that's why it didn't burn me,” mumbled Hoseok, gazing at Kihyun like he'd hung the moon, but like he could also take it down at any minute. “You want me back, don't you?”

...And the shame was back.

But it didn't overpower Kihyun this time. It just tripped him a little bit.

“I may be getting there.”

They didn't peck that night.

They didn't peck the night after.

It took them another week.

Kihyun cut his sleep to five hours a day to tutor first years between his shifts and classes so he could take Hoseok to the movies on Saturday. The _Skyscraper_ was on, and Hoseok fussed about Dwayne Johnson being bigger than him and do you think he's conventionally attractive, Kihyunnie, wait, what do you mean he is, is he better-looking than me, _what do you mean, he might be_ , and Kihyun bought popcorn so his silly boyfriend wouldn't sulk anymore. Hoseok still sulked, but he looked cute munching on the snack.

It was his favourite thing, making Hoseok sulk.

Too content to care, Kihyun didn't chide himself for that thought.

He fell asleep forty minutes into the movie, not because he didn't like it, but because the combination of cosy darkness and Hoseok's shoulder was too much to resist. He breathed in and out deeply, unaware of the fact that Hoseok froze the second he noticed there was someone taking nap on him. Cheeks full of popcorn, Hoseok chewed slow and quiet so as not to wake him. He put the bucket on an empty seat next to them.

There was a lot of people in the cinema, so Hoseok couldn't take off his knitted cap. His tail was hidden by the backrest of the cushy seat, which was why he didn't need to wear his down jacket because to conceal it. Bit by bit, Hoseok reached for the jacket and fluffed it up so it would open. Even slower, he laid it over Kihyun. He hung his head lower as if to press his mouth where Kihyun's hair was parted, but he ended up poking him with the tip of his nose instead.

The movie continued. Hoseok went from distracted to engrossed within minutes, unable to tear his eyes off the screen since he was still only getting used to all those magnificent effects and loud noises, no matter how often Kihyun tried to take him to this place. At one point, he flinched really hard when the hero was in danger.

It nudged Kihyun awake.

He stirred and gave a sharp exhale. He put his face up. He peered right at Hoseok.

Sluggish with sleep, Kihyun mumbled: “Is it over?”

The question came out drowsy, drowned out by the sound of crashing glass and sirens. It all came to him in waves. Kihyun blinked before he brushed his lips against Hoseok's, lingering there. He pressed at the parted line of Hoseok's mouth with his upper lip. It fit there. He took Hoseok's lower lip between his.

It wasn't clammy.

It wasn't clammy at all.

It was like kissing silk; but warm.

Calmly, Kihyun pushed forward. He steadied himself on what he thought was the seat, but what turned out to be Hoseok's thigh. He gave it a light squeeze as he squeezed Hoseok's lower lip at the same time.

Hoseok whimpered. Kihyun pulled away. Deafening, crawling sounds carried towards them through the black of the room, echoing from the front where the screen hung. Kihyun's eyelids were heavy when he broke away from Hoseok's mouth to look up.

Half of Hoseok's face was completely dark, a lone glimmer in his eye disclosing that there was some movement in that shadowed part of him. Half stood out pale in the faded light.

Kihyun put his hand up. In a languid motion, he dipped his middle finger down and caressed Hoseok's forehead. He let his hand go south. He followed the border between light and shadow, first with his eyes and then with the pad of his finger. He trailed the smooth slope of Hoseok's nose, the stubby tip, the curve of his lip which was so prominent and pouty even when he was the happiest. Kihyun continued down his chin, short and round, so unlike his own pointy one.

He never spent much time dissecting himself in the mirror. He wasn't sure how many freckles marred his face, though he supposed it wasn't a small number. He had no idea which parts of him were asymmetrical and which were pleasing to the eye. But if someone asked him to talk about Hoseok, Kihyun could bring him to life with words.

Not even a camera could do it better.

Not even Kihyun's camera.

But he knew right then and there he would try. Hoseok wasn't going to grow old, but Kihyun was. He had to capture everything for him. Every year. Every little thing.

A grave wasn't going to hold Kihyun down. Even when buried, he would make sure that Hoseok had something to remember him by and hold on to. Something to look at – not only in his peculiar, imaginative mind, but in reality. There would be no room for the terrible longing he'd seen in Hoseok's gaze the day at the museum and all those days before.

Sure as fuck, Kihyun pressed their mouths together.

 

There was one inconvenient thing about dating Hoseok in summer. The nights were short.

They spent every waking minute together at home. For weeks, they hadn't properly left the place. Kihyun couldn't take Hoseok anywhere while the sultry weather lasted.

Hoseok didn't mind torpid, breezeless nights. He didn't mind heat, just like he didn't mind cold – unless he walked around shoeless in the deepest winter. Summers were Hoseok's second nature. If the two of them decided to go out, Hoseok could wear a cap and a jacket to hide his horns and tail without breaking a sweat.

It was Kihyun who was dying at the very idea of wandering through the stuffy, asphalt-smelling streets of the Seongbuk district.

This August was the worst Kihyun had ever witnessed. Ever. It was well past midnight and he lay drenched and wretched in bed, rooted to the spot, a wet shadow creating underneath him. The breaths he took were positively liquid, filling his lungs with something heavy.

Yeah. Walking _anywhere_ was out of question.

He wasn't in the mood to cook. He wasn't in the mood to take pictures because he was nasty while Hoseok glowed, as always. Despite that, Kihyun had took some snaps while waiting for the darkness to become chillier. Soon he would be able to snuggle against Hoseok's body without feeling gross and too warm.

Hoseok was so, so warm. It was nice, though it had been significantly nicer during winter and spring.

Sighing, Kihyun regretted he had no more clothes to take off. He threw his head back as Hoseok fanned him with an ornamental paper fan, the air briefly tickling his throat.

“This is the pits,” he uttered. Even his voice was sweaty. Kihyun didn't know how that worked, but it did.

“It's August already,” said Hoseok mildly. “Only a few more weeks and your gloomy ass can enjoy pretentious walks in the rain again.”

“Excuse you. There is nothing pretentious about taking pleasant walks and admiring nature.”

“I thought you were admiring me.”

“You do look quite admirable with wet hair,” admitted Kihyun.

Pleased, Hoseok fanned him with more vigour. Kihyun made a small sound.

He could smell his own sweat. It collected at the back of his knees, in the crook of his neck, on his upper lip. He had taken a shower barely an hour ago and yet here he was, disgusting like this.

Fortunately for him, Hoseok reckoned his suffering rather cute. He'd been fussing over Kihyun ever since the worst heats had begun, substituting an air cooler and taking care that he drank enough water. They ate chilled soups together and stood by the window at nights and generally did everything that would give Kihyun at least the illusion of being cold, but it was to no avail.

He was miserable.

He missed Hoseok's body. He'd grown used to it being his pillow and blanket all at once. He missed seeing Hoseok for good twelve hours a day. The fucking sun was out at ungodly hours and it set so late that Kihyun could barely see him at all. It was as if planets and stars had conspired to steal Hoseok away from him.

Thus, he was grumpy.

But underneath the grumpiness, he was plain lonely.

It wasn't kissing he missed the most. It wasn't even sleeping beside each other because Kihyun never really _slept_ in Hoseok's presence anymore; they just lazed around together and talked and occasionally nipped at each other, chest up.

At first, Kihyun had wondered whether his days lacked the dull, throbbing thrill that came with discovering Hoseok's needs and accepting them as his own. They'd done some things after the first kiss – small things, kisses on funny places, like the spine or the sides and, once, the taut spot between the hip and the thigh which had given Kihyun his first hard-on in someone else's presence. They'd rubbed against each other a little, sometimes with the intention to feel good. One time, they had kissed for so long and moved their hips so sweetly that Hoseok couldn't hold it in anymore. He had come, startled that he had done it in front of Kihyun.

Kihyun had felt it, and the curiosity that had spread through him back then still tingled in his limbs when he recalled Hoseok's moan.

He'd helped Hoseok with that problem more than once afterwards, literally lending him a hand whenever the older man would pace around a tad too nervously. It was less awkward than Kihyun had anticipated – hotter to touch – and he would lie if he said Hoseok's voice didn't go through him every time like a deep reverberation goes through a gong that had just been struck.

Still, this was all they did. Hoseok had yet to ask for more, no matter how restless he grew at times.

It was Kihyun who was restless today. Had been for a while.

He couldn't figure it out. It wasn't simply his body calling to be kissed or rubbed.

It wasn't _just_ his body speaking.

He threw a glance at the phone to check the time. He glowered. How does one win against sunrise? How does one even compete with it?

Gloomy, Kihyun tucked his chin in to let his eyes linger on Hoseok's hands. Up and up, he traced the fullness of his upper body. His slightly blushed ears. He wore a plain tank top and a pair of briefs. Kihyun, for that part, wore nothing. He reached out to pull Hoseok's hand towards his face in a silent command to be fanned with more force.

“Is it that bad?” asked Hoseok, his amused tone disappearing.

“It's hell.” Noticing that Hoseok was about to lecture him about the underworld, Kihyun added: “Figuratively speaking.”

“Maybe you should take another shower,” he suggested.

“I've already taken two today. I can't waste so much water just because I'm all greasy and hideous.”

“You are neither of that,” smiled Hoseok.

“Watch me. I will be even greasier and more hideous before the night ends.” Pausing, he sighed. “It's going to be over so soon.”

“The summer?”

“The night.”

“We still have a couple of hours.”

“Aren't we lucky,” he said sourly. “Look, when I agreed to spend my life with you, I knew I was signing up for only one half of it, but I forgot about summers altogether. I feel fucking scammed.”

Slowing in his movements, Hoseok pulled a small grimace.

“You can't give me back, though.”

“Wasn't planning to.” On the contrary. Kihyun would compete with the sun to keep him. “Seok?”

“Hm?”

“Is there any way to evoke you during the day? Any way at all?”

“No,” he said quietly.

“Oh.” Great. “You could've at least let me down gently,” mumbled Kihyun.

“I don't want to let you down at all,” whispered Hoseok.

A cold drop pierced his chest.

“That's not what I meant,” Kihyun reassured him. He reached out again. He took the fan from Hoseok and started to wave it furiously with his left hand. At the same time, he grabbed Hoseok by the bicep and tugged him down. “But it's so awful.”

Careful not to end up squished too tight against Kihyun, Hoseok settled himself down on his side. Even his weight next to Kihyun seemed to radiate heat – his simple presence was too much while the time they had ahead of them was too little.

Kihyun put the fan down. He rolled onto his side and wrapped his arm around Hoseok's waist.

“Maybe if I hold you real hard, you won't vanish,” he murmured.

“Ki...”

“It's alright. I know.”

“No, it's not alright at all. I thought you were down because of the weather, not this,” said Hoseok.

“I'm just being silly. I'll be my heartless little self again by tomorrow. I promise.”

“I like you like this.” He winced at himself. “I mean, I don't like it that you're sad, but –”

“It's not sadness,” said Kihyun tiredly. “At least not all of it. It's...”

Longing. He missed Hoseok to the point of wishing to melt the sun down like a big chunk of gold. He wished for an eternal night.

He couldn't say any of it without sounding stupid.

“It's just that I'd rather have you here with me, is all,” he finished lamely.

“I'm here,” Hoseok pointed out.

“Until half past four, probably.” Kihyun used his strength to drag Hoseok the tiniest bit closer. His palms went sweaty. The sheets rustled. “I don't know why, but it feels like you're gone already. Like there's this tiny death sentence scheduled for us day after day and I keep waiting for it.”

Smooth. Not stupid at all.

“I could peck you so you know I'm really real and really here,” offered Hoseok, his ears moving up and down as he expected an answer.

“That sounds like a tiny death sentence, too.”

“Look at him scorning my kisses.”

“No. By all means, kill me.”

“Dork,” giggled Hoseok. He pressed that word into Kihyun's mouth.

He wasn't kidding, though. Hoseok could burn him alive and he would politely sweep his own ashes and ask for more.

Kihyun pushed forward with his whole body. The kiss scorched, but it was better than not being kissed, even in this swelter.

He only tore away from Hoseok to sigh and press right back. God, his skin was even warmer under the tank top. There was the faintest hint of sweat where his spine ran and Kihyun dug his fingers into that spot, making his way down like a pianist: playing, tapping, owning the melody.

And what a melody. Hoseok's low moan made Kihyun's mouth ache. He swallowed it, and again, and again when he slid his hand over the curve of Hoseok's ass.

There was a swish.

Hoseok's tail started to lightly whip Kihyun's tummy.

They stopped.

They looked down.

Docile, Kihyun slid his hand back up.

“No, no,” said Hoseok, shifting towards him. “Keep doing it.”

“It's slapping me,” accused Kihyun, pointing at the tail which in turn pointed at him with the sharp end. But there was something demure about the way it curled, something...

“I think it's excited,” said Hoseok, blinking.

“You don't know it for sure?”

“It's kind of sentient.”

“Jesus.”

“I can try to keep it away,” offered Hoseok.

“No, I mean – it's okay – just don't let it slap my dick or something.” Jesus.

Unsure, Hoseok glanced at the tail, at Kihyun's stomach, and finally at his semi.

“I could cover you?”

_Jesus._

Too awkward to respond, Kihyun simply moved his hips. He took Hoseok's bottom lip between his. He closed his eyes so they didn't have to look at each other when Hoseok cupped his cock.

The slow, steady sting against the skin on his stomach didn't cease. It mirrored his heartbeat. Dull. Dull. Fast.

Kihyun barely did anything – barely moved his lips. It was like kissing silk again. He opened his mouth and closed it.

He knew what he was allowing Hoseok to do. He'd been waiting for it.

Sure enough, Hoseok gave him one tentative stroke.

Kihyun gripped his ass.

There were tongues. Blind and burning, Kihyun caressed and kneaded Hoseok all over. He traced the firm muscles of his leg and went back up to the slightly softer, damper part of his back where he paused to massage it.

Distantly, somewhere far far away, he could hear wind get up and rumble. It was the wrong, arid kind of wind. The open window rattled and slammed shut. The sound startled them both and they pulled apart only to stare at each other before they dove back, making out as if the world didn't exist, only them. The window rattled stronger.

Kihyun brushed the bottom hem of Hoseok's briefs. He skimmed the fabric and let go, squeezed his thigh and let go. He skimmed the fabric again. But he didn't let go.

Stretching his fingers, he pushed them underneath the hem of Hoseok's briefs and further up. He crushed his ass cheek. Hoseok gasped, his tail wrapping around Kihyun's waist.

The strokes teasing Kihyun's dick were no longer tentative. They reached the same rhythm with which Kihyun would normally get himself off on those rare occasions he needed it. Unconsciously, he ground into Hoseok's hand as he spread him.

The wind rose.

Kihyun wedged one finger between Hoseok's cheeks. Just to caress him. Just to see how snug it felt. He palmed his balls. It was all so tight, the fabric elastic enough to allow some movements, but not comfort.

“Kihyun,” Hoseok forced out in a shudder.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. Shaking, he withdrew and fondled Hoseok over the briefs instead. “I won't do it again,” he promised.

“No, wait. Look, I'm curious too –”

“It's alright. I wasn't about to go in,” Kihyun assured him.

“I _want_ you to,” murmured Hoseok, emphasizing the word as he worked Kihyun faster. “Just not today.”

“We don't have to – at all,” said Kihyun.

“I want to. Understand? I do.” Serious, Hoseok laid his forehead on Kihyun's, shifting slightly higher so the horns wouldn't hurt him. “I can't go all the way right now, but... You can keep touching me.”

“Okay.” It came out like a little moan.

Glancing straight at Hoseok, Kihyun propped himself on one elbow to reach better. He went right back, but this time he rolled Hoseok's briefs down until the thick waistband squeezed his ass upwards. Bringing Hoseok into another kiss, Kihyun cupped his plump ass cheek before he let his middle finger rest between them. He dragged it up and down slowly. His fingertip tingled whenever it grazed Hoseok's asshole.

Kihyun knew it may be thrilling him more than Hoseok at this point. He wasn't able to lay off.

He wondered if it was a part of his need to be close to Hoseok. All day, he would wait for the night. All night, he would wait for their meetings to be like they used to be. Complete.

The incompleteness that came with spending hours and hours and hours apart had remoulded Kihyun's views on intimacy. He craved it now. Craved it because he couldn't afford to waste it. He put one leg between Hoseok's thighs. In a whisper, he told Hoseok to lie on his back – and Hoseok did. His tail _clutched_ Kihyun, embracing him around his middle. He shivered.

He took hold of Hoseok's cock.

The rest was messy.

They spilled; they went speechless; their bodies convulsed.

Watching Hoseok come was close to watching mountains shatter. He fell apart with his whole being.

Kihyun came in waves. Even when it was over, the sensation didn't wash away. It just settled deeper. It unfolded over his flesh and bones until he felt so cold that his skin prickled.

He rolled off Hoseok. At the same time, he rasped:

“Come here. Seok, come here...”

He tried to haul Hoseok nearer, but found out he had no strength left in his arms. It was a good thing that Hoseok went to him willingly. He covered Kihyun up with his bigger body. They hugged tight. Glad for the closeness, Kihyun laid Hoseok's head on his shoulder and kissed him behind the ear.

Hoseok chuckled when he caught his breath.

“Wait,” he muttered, trying to get up. “My whole ass is out.”

“Leave it out. It's a nice ass,” said Kihyun sleepily.

His eyes glinted. “That so?”

“Yep. I'm never wrong.”

“You're wrong _sometimes_ ,” Hoseok teased him, but he eased back down. His tail, limp now, folded beside them on top of the mattress.

“Not about this,” said Kihyun. Not so shy anymore, he gave Hoseok one last squeeze before he pulled his briefs up.

Well, perhaps not the last.

He pushed his luck one more time.

Hoseok let his weight drop on top of Kihyun heavier still when the younger man grabbed him over the thick material. Grunting, Kihyun patted Hoseok on the sides.

“Okay, okay,” he said, grinning for some reason. “I'm done being grabby.”

“Be grabby.” Hoseok smiled. He nuzzled their noses together. It was peaceful despite the torrid gale outside. “Don't think I don't want this, Kihyun. Because I do. So much.”

“Still.” He kept his hands respectfully on Hoseok's hips. “You said...”

“I said not today. That doesn't mean not tomorrow.”

Kihyun hummed.

Then he coughed. “Tomorrow?”

“Unless you'd rather wait for winter.” Hoseok cracked a grin. “Three months and a half seems to be the charm with you. You kissed me after three months and a half –”

“I sound very easy.”

“And you gave me a handjob after three more months and a half –”

“So, so easy.”

“And now, you're groping my butt after another three and a half months of getting handsy with each other,” continued Hoseok.

“What a cheap guy, this Yoo Kihyun. Touching buttholes so early into dating.”

“Let him be cheaper,” laughed Hoseok. “This butthole is ready.”

“I need Buddha.”

“To exorcise me?” he quipped.

“To survive this,” said Kihyun quietly.

Out of nowhere, he started to shake.

Hoseok quickly sobered up. It was sad, how his smile died.

“Look, we don't have to do it if you're scared. Really. We don't have to go all the way. We can just cuddle,” proposed Hoseok, stroking his face slowly.

“You call this cuddling?” Kihyun raised one eyebrow.

“Our cocks cuddled.”

“How can you say this,” he whispered and pressed at Hoseok's cheeks so it squished his lips open, “with this mouth. How. It's such a pretty mouth.”

“Kiss it,” replied Hoseok cheekily.

Kihyun chuckled.

But yeah. He kissed him.

Expectation settled into him like a fragrance. It wasn't going to be just his tongue in Hoseok's hot mouth tomorrow. They were going to be one. It eased the storm within him to know that, at least for a while, Hoseok wouldn't have to be only half a person.

When he looked up, he knew from Hoseok's expression that he was thinking the same.

“Do you understand what it means if we sleep together, though?” he asked solemnly.

Kihyun tilted his head, but the answer dawned on him mid-gesture.

“We'll have to get married. Otherwise... they'll call you back.”

“Yes.” His muscles rippling, Hoseok leaned on one elbow to be able to take in more of Kihyun. To watch him. “Think about it, Kihyun.”

“I don't have to. I've thought about it often enough.”

“You have?”

“Well, it's a big decision,” he admitted. “And I've made it.”

It gentled every feature of Hoseok's face.

“But you'll have to stay with me for the rest of your life.”

“That's kind of the plan.”

And it was.

It was.

 

Out of all the days Hoseok could have came late, it was the day they were supposed to sleep together.

As Kihyun waited for Hoseok's arrival, showered and groomed and with his nails clipped and impeccably clean, he prepared something small to eat for when it was all over in case they were hungry. He paced around the kitchenette, buttoning and unbuttoning his short-sleeved shirt. He checked the temperature several times. It wasn't as sultry as yesterday because the wind had brought a short rain shower with it and cleared the air; but it was still hot.

Restless, he walked towards the column of books he kept by the bed as a nightstand. Should he leave the bottle of lube there? In the open? Was it too forward?

Unsure, he pocketed it. It bulked out his pants. He put it back.

It glared at him. Kihyun glared back.

He moved the bottle behind the small potted plant he kept there so it wouldn't be visible. Better.

But still no Hoseok.

Kihyun wondered if he had pushed him yesterday. He could've crossed some emotional or physical limit without knowing. He could've been too hasty after proceeding in such small steps. Was that it?

He wiped his palms every few minutes, but they kept getting sweaty. He went ahead and washed his hands again.

Hoseok was on the bed when Kihyun walked out of the bathroom.

“Hello, lover.”

“Good evening,” said Kihyun, the tone of his voice more timid than he liked.

He'd seen Hoseok in golden chains and fluffy sweaters and even undressed, but not like this. The man before him wore a simple hanbok. It was modest, the blue-black satin shimmering cold regardless of the golden glow coming down from the ceiling.

Actually, the whole studio seemed to sink into a solid haze of semi-darkness when Hoseok was here. Kihyun imagined this was what it must be like underwater; dark, but light. Unmoving, but fluid.

Kihyun put the light out. The dim wall light in the kitchenette was still on, but that was as much light as Kihyun could stand right now.

Tense, he sat on the edge of the bed.

“You're late,” he said.

“I had to dress up,” said Hoseok in a proud yet demure manner, his manliness clashing with his boyishness, or rather clicking with it. He looked _good_. “And the other things.”

“What other things?” asked Kihyun without thinking, but then it hit him. “Oh...”

They'd had many, many talks about the proper way to prepare for this, sometimes so detailed that Kihyun wouldn't even think of sex as _sex_ , but an exam he had to study for. It was easy. He could treat it as something impersonal.

It wasn't so easy now because when he imagined Hoseok doing all those things they had talked about, it messed with his head. Especially the finger part.

He wondered whether Hoseok had done that to prep himself today too, or whether he'd decided to leave that part up to Kihyun.

He kind of wanted to do it.

Gently, gently, Hoseok took Kihyun by the hand and pulled him on the bed so he was no longer sitting up. Their faces were only a breath apart.

“Hello again,” murmured Hoseok.

“Hi,” said Kihyun, throat parched.

Brushing his mouth against Kihyun's, Hoseok whispered: “Are you still sure about this?”

“Dead sure.”

“Alright.” Hoseok pecked him. Gently, gently again. “But if you need to stop at any point...”

“I don't think I will. I want to be inside you.”

He blushed darkly, though the sudden wave of shyness didn't cripple him like it normally would. It just made him heavy; heavy from his head to his toes. He had to rest his chin on Hoseok's shoulder to collect himself. As he breathed in and out, Kihyun kissed his neck. It smelled faintly of rose oil.

His dick got hard.

He would scowl at it if he wasn't busy kissing the scent off Hoseok's skin. Of course the thing would go hard when his boyfriend was fully dressed and keeping a respectful distance. If it had been so cooperative from the get go, Kihyun would have saved himself quite a deal of trouble.

He would have missed all of this, though.

He pulled away far enough to study Hoseok's expression. He tried not to think too much – he tried not to _feel_ too much – and he kind of succeeded at the thinking part. Softly, he brushed Hoseok's bangs away. He felt the rough, ribbed texture of his horns underneath his fingertips.

“Kihyun.”

“Yes?”

“Would you like me if I didn't have the horns?”

“What kind of question is that?” he queried, puzzled.

“I don't know,” said Hoseok vaguely. “I'm just wondering.”

“Well, at least I could kiss your forehead.” He winced. “I mean, I can still do that. Look. Here, right in the middle.”

Kihyun demonstrated just how kissable Hoseok's lovely forehead was. Over and over and over. He heard Hoseok laugh even though the sound remained low in his throat.

“I get it, you dork,” he sighed. “I was just checking.”

“Listen. Horns or no horns. Tail or no tail.” Slowing down with his speech, he rubbed Hoseok's ear. “Whether you're an incubus or a human being or both or neither. It doesn't matter. Not anymore. I've decided.”

Everything glowed blue. Hoseok smiled.

“Right back at you.”

They started off awkwardly. It was one thing to know what you wanted and what you had to do to achieve it, and it was another thing to actually do it.

Kihyun fumbled with his clothes until Hoseok took them off for him. His heartbeat quickened. He'd been naked in front of Hoseok countless times, but he was glad for the low light.

He was less glad for the gloom when he peeled the hanbok off Hoseok's shoulders and chest, letting it pool under him.

There were no jewels on his body. Nothing. He was so white. Kihyun barely got any sun this summer, but his hand was much darker as it crept over Hoseok's skin, shadowed, his bones and veins shifting slightly as he moved from one collarbone to the other. Strange. His hand looked older. One day, it would truly be old. Old in comparison to this man-shaped piece of perfection.

He minded it more for Hoseok's sake.

They kissed, and kissed, and kissed. Hoseok lay down and Kihyun went after him. He opened the hanbok all the way. It crumpled under Hoseok as a dark black stain.

Voiceless, Kihyun asked about the finger thing – and Hoseok said yes, yes, I did, but do it again – and Kihyun inhaled and slicked up his fingers.

It was warmer than anything he'd ever touched.

He had no idea how to do this, and Hoseok had no idea how to _receive_ this. Still, it was Hoseok who let out calming whispers, that's it, that's it, now slower, _oh_ , wait, come here, lie next to me.

Kihyun watched Hoseok's face rather than his opening thighs. His shoulder hurt from lying on his side for a little too long. He didn't shift. He went on, burying his fingers in, the tightness around them almost unpleasant until it suddenly wasn't and he sank in all the way. Hoseok was loosened up enough to take him.

It made him shake. Hoseok had to hold him and steady him, and Kihyun couldn't control his face and frowned. It amused Hoseok. They both laughed at Kihyun's misery because it was no misery at all. It was just too much going on inside a person too small.

Hoseok unwrapped a condom and Kihyun rolled it on. Bit by bit, he settled on top of Hoseok. They were chest to chest. Running both hands up the nape of Kihyun's neck, Hoseok cradled his head.

“Still sure?” Hoseok mouthed at him.

“Yeah.”

There was so much lube that Kihyun slipped when he tried to push in. Stubborn, he bent his knees until he was half-lying, half-kneeling pressed tight against Hoseok's ass. Hoseok's thighs went up. So did his tail. It wrapped around Kihyun's arm, a black thin snake. He looked at it before he moved even closer and hugged Hoseok hard so they folded into each other like a Soma cube.

“I'll try again,” he announced needlessly.

“Go on,” said Hoseok.

Kihyun pushed his hips forward.

Nothing stopped him. Nothing slowed him down. He slid inside and bottomed out, their bodies locking.

Hoseok was doe-eyed under him.

So was Kihyun.

_Oh._

“Go on, go on.” Hoseok stroked Kihyun's back and sides and even his hair again. “Don't worry.”

“Doesn't it – you know?”

“No,” he murmured. “But you're kinda fat, so don't go too fast.”

“That's the first time I'm hearing that I'm fat.”

“Oh, you're going to hear that again and again, love.” He kissed Kihyun deep and nice. “Now. Less talking. More loving me.”

Kihyun wasn't about to say no to that.

Grunting a little, he started thrusting. He was careful. Slow, just as Hoseok wished; and not that slow once he asked Kihyun for more. Hoseok still led the way – or they led each other, with Kihyun gripping him and Hoseok mumbling what he needed.

It went so _easy._

They grasped at each other clumsily, yet each caress was calming, a dose of reassurance that with Hoseok, it was right. Even the pressure on Kihyun's upper arm felt sweet as the tail squeezed him, creeping up and up. It skimmed over his shoulder and neck. It squeezed him there, too.

Kihyun moaned. At the same time, the tail ran over his mouth and darted inside. Unthinking, he closed his lips around the tip.

Hoseok thrashed.

He pressed his thighs together so tight it bruised Kihyun's hips.

“What? What is it?” he managed, his body still moving. The tail once more brushed the inner part of his lips and softly poked inside where it met Kihyun's tongue.

Hoseok's only answer was a whine.

God. He liked it.

Kihyun licked the thing.

What it did to Hoseok sent Kihyun's mind to oblivion.

He thrusted into Hoseok quicker. It was like living through him, the bliss that came with making him moan like this being bigger than what Kihyun's own body could offer him. It was already good – the same way being touched could be good.

But making _Hoseok_ feel good was better.

Kihyun laid a palm over Hoseok's pec to greet his heart.

The rest was a blur. They finished at different times, groaning quietly. Their breaths, if they were tangible, would be interwoven.

When it was over and Kihyun glided out, he remained in place. They still traced each other, unable to tear apart. They took care that it wasn't all too little or too much. Kihyun's voice broke when he tried to say Hoseok's name, so they kissed instead, talking without words.

He found out that breathy kisses were his favourite.

They took their time cleaning up. Kihyun tried to focus on the mechanical task to busy himself – to compose himself. It wasn't working all that well.

He waited for the inertia and perhaps even sleep to hit. It hadn't yet. He was too awake.

He wiped Hoseok's belly and made him sit up. The bed groaned. Kihyun sat across from Hoseok with his legs bent. Timidly, they stole glimpses at each other until Kihyun grew sick of it. He clutched Hoseok and Hoseok clutched him. Their foreheads butted.

_Their foreheads butted._

With a start, Kihyun pulled away. What he saw made his stomach sink. He shrank even as he gripped Hoseok harder.

The horns were gone. Hoseok had nothing on his face but a darling little smile.

“Hello, lover,” he whispered.

“What's this.”

“What's what?”

“This, Hoseok, this! What...” Kihyun bit his tongue. Trembling, cupped Hoseok's face with searching hands. But however carefully he traced his forehead, there were no cutely shortish horns to peek and poke at him. His skull was smooth. “What happened?”

“Did it work?” Hoseok asked instead, making no sense to Kihyun.

“Did what work? What the fuck have I done to you?”

“You haven't done anything,” said Hoseok. He gazed straight at Kihyun. “Say hello to your human boyfriend.”

With that, Hoseok nuzzled at him.

That was hardly an adequate answer.

“To my _what._ ”

Hoseok's smile wavered.

“Your human boyfriend,” he said in a smaller voice.

Kihyun had nothing to say to that.

Except for a heartfelt “What. The fuck.”

“Don't freak out,” pleaded Hoseok.

“Don't freak out!” he called. Pushing himself up into a kneel, he shuffled closer. He lifted Hoseok's bangs to check again. Nothing. “How did this happen? _Why_ did this happen? Did you _know_ it would happen?” Everything stopped. “Did you do it on purpose?”

“That's too many questions,” piped up Hoseok.

“And you better answer them,” he snapped.

Hoseok's shoulders sloped.

He picked at the folds of the hanbok which lay forgotten under him.

“Yes, I knew. Yes, I did it on purpose.” He hesitated. “This is what happens when half-borns sleep with humans without sapping their energy, apparently.”

“Apparently,” repeated Kihyun, growing colder with each exchanged word. He trembled again.

“I – yeah. Do you remember when we first talked about having sex? And I said I wouldn't mind doing it the other way?”

He flushed. “I remember.”

“Well. I was curious about that, so I asked around. It seems that pure-bloods get gradually weaker when they do this, so naturally, they don't. But I'm not a pure-blood.” Tenderly, he trailed a path down Kihyun's rib cage with his hand. “My powers are gone, Kihyun.”

“But _why_?” he implored. “Why would you do this? We didn't have to sleep together. You know it's not important to me.”

It was Hoseok who was important, which made even becoming intimate with him so significant. After all, he was the only one who'd ever made Kihyun yearn for more. For anything at all. But that didn't mean he insisted on getting it.

He deflated.

“Hoseok, you will die,” he said lamely.

“I know, silly. I would die either way. It would just take longer.” His hand crept back up to rest on Kihyun's neck. “And I would die alone.”

“Not alone! You have friends – you have a mother! You can't leave her!”

“She told me that not being able to grow old with my father was the worst thing that has ever happened to her.”

“But –”

“She also told me she would never want me to go through the same.”

“But you could still go through that. I could die sooner than you, by years!” he exploded. His stomach sank. Oh, fuck. “You could die sooner than me. No. Hoseok, no. Undo this.”

“I can't.”

“ _Undo this._ ”

“I can't,” he repeated. He brought Kihyun's face to his. “And I wouldn't if I could. You promised to spend your life with me. It's only right I promise you the same.”

Kihyun pushed him. Then he pulled him close.

“You fool. You fool, you fool, you fool, you shouldn't have done this, you shouldn't have, you _can't_ ,” he muttered. “Hoseok, no. No.”

“Yes.” Looking up, Hoseok smiled. “I'm yours now.”

“You were mine even before that,” protested Kihyun.

“Good. Remember that when I'm old and wrinkly.”

A shudder rendered him speechless. It clogged his throat. His face contorted. Murmuring something not even Kihyun himself could understand, he once more began to explore Hoseok's forehead, except now he didn't do it with his fingers; he did it with his parted lips.

“Is this why you asked me if I'd like you without the horns?” he said thickly, taking in the scent of Hoseok's hair.

“Yup.”

“Don't you _yup_ me, Lee Hoseok. This is a serious matter. This is a matter of life and death.” His voice cracked. “We have to solve this. We only have until sunrise –”

Stricken, Kihyun took a lungful of air.

He put Hoseok's face up to peer into it.

Hoseok's eyes were big.

“No more sunrise,” he said softly. “I'm here to stay.”

Kihyun would sob right then and there if he wasn't determined to stay strict.

“It's _so_ no pecks and no songs for you from now on,” he promised darkly. “It's no soups and no sex –”

“No soups!” called Hoseok.

“And no marriage until we're at least thirty.”

“That's not what we agreed on when we decided to have sex!” he complained.

“We also didn't agree on you becoming mortal!”

“Don't look at it like that, Ki. Don't. I was mortal even before I lost my powers,” entreated Hoseok. “But now I'm a human.”

A human.

He'd always been human – good and full of feelings. Warm to the touch. Kihyun had known that prior to ever touching him. Yes. He'd always been half a person. But he'd become complete. Not just undead.

Alive.

“So this is the power of my dick,” grumbled Kihyun.

Chuckling, Hoseok burrowed his head against Kihyun's chest. He could do it without hurting him.

“You're not angry anymore?” he tried hopefully.

“I'm seething, you insufferable inc – you horrible human.”

“But are you at least a little bit glad?”

The question pierced through Kihyun. It felt like swallowing down bile and pure pain when he sought for an answer.

“I'm glad,” he admitted, voiceless. “But I hate it that I'm glad.”

“Why?”

“Because it's selfish – to ask this from you.”

“You never asked, though,” Hoseok glanced up at him calmly. “You liked me either way.”

Unable to stop himself, Kihyun petted him. He fingered Hoseok's fringe, partially waiting for his horns to grow back stronger than ever under the contact. They didn't. It was a pity, almost, that he had nothing to caress when he played with Hoseok's hair.

He reckoned Hoseok still had a pair of pretty cute ears. He gave them a rub.

Hoseok moaned into Kihyun's skin.

“I guess you need to eat those soups now that you can't live off cuddles and handjobs,” grudged Kihyun in a silent tone.

“That I do,” whispered Hoseok. “Soups and pecks.”

“Don't push it.”

There were no tails lashing around to accompany Hoseok's pout. His lips did the job just fine, in Kihyun's opinion. Daring his first smile, he decided to kiss them. He went down.

The sun went up.

 

The recording studio reeked of cheap ramyun and, of course, of Seokjin. Not that there would be any herbs hanging around or crushed dried flowers lying on the ground, but as Yoongi sleepily straightened up to blink at the incomers, his hoodie gave off the scent of lavender. Behind him, Jooheon and Gunhee gaped towards the door just as confused, both of them leaning to the side to see better.

Clucking his tongue, Kihyun looked around the disorganized place. Not only it stank – it needed some serious sweeping. He gave his three friend a once-over which bordered on open judgement.

“Satan is here,” whispered Gunhee dramatically.

“Actually, Satan is a woman,” said Kihyun offhandedly. He groped in the dark for Hoseok and tugged him further into the room. “I brought you someone better.”

Hoseok offered them a shy wave.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hullo,” replied Yoongi, owlish.

“Where are his horns?” exclaimed Jooheon.

“Gone,” said Kihyun curtly.

“Hyung, you –”

There was a gasp.

“They fucked!” cheered Gunhee, too sharp for Kihyun's liking as always.

Jooheon gasped harder. He covered his ears.

“They didn't fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“True.” Gunhee grinned. “They made passionate, passionate love.”

“Did you come here to gloat?” Yoongi cracked a small smile.

“I came to ask you to employ my future husband. My human husband.” Kihyun couldn't help but puff up his chest the tiniest bit. “He sings real nice.”

And he better earn some cash if he planned to crash at Kihyun's place, eat his mouth-melting hanwoo, and waste his water. Hoseok had grown to like hot showers now that he was able to feel cold as easily as any other mortal, and it'd become visible on the bill.

Yoongi raised his eyebrows.

Kihyun raised his eyebrows higher.

“You better do it, Min Yoongi. I've invested into your boyfriend over the past year too.”

“Alright, alright...”

“Ki,” whispered Hoseok from the corner of his mouth, “don't blackmail them. They won't ever like me if you do.”

“It's not blackmail when it's amongst friends.” With that, Kihyun turned to him. He brushed invisible dust off Hoseok's shoulders so he would have an excuse to touch him. He knew Hoseok reacted to touches. “And there is no one who can _not_ like you.”

“Well –” began Jooheon.

“No one,” asserted Kihyun, locking his thorny eyes with the boy.

“ _Well_ ,” repeated Jooheon and patted an empty seat by Yoongi's workstation, “come sit with us, Hoseok. I'd say be careful about the tail, but I guess you don't have it anymore.”

“The only thing that's attached to his butt nowadays is probably Kihyun,” supplied Gunhee in a very audible whisper.

Kihyun's expression darkened.

“Make one more joke and I –”

“Ki, no threats, either,” entreated Hoseok.

Docile, Kihyun swallowed what he had to say although he did so knowing that Gunhee grinned at him with as much mockery as he could muster with the single grimace.

He watched Hoseok go.

Sheepishly, but with one last look at Kihyun and a smile, Hoseok joined the guys. He sat down like a proper little human. It warmed Kihyun to the core how easily he got lost there in his grey sweats and a plain black T-shirt. He wasn't even the palest amongst them; that spot went to Yoongi. But there was still a glow of sorts about Hoseok – an irrepressible light that Kihyun intended to keep burning forever.

He kind of swelled at the thought. Gain was right. All Kihyun had to do was make it nice in this world for him.

And he would.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me to the end! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Find me [here](https://twitter.com/mrtvej_pes).


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